Disclaimers: If they belonged to us, there would come a day
when taffeta played a role in their lives.
Spoilers: Vague 4th season-ness.
Summary: Xander is the insomniac, Spike's the hot cocoa.
Ratings Note: NC-17
Feedback: Craved desperately at firstname.lastname@example.org and
email@example.com and firstname.lastname@example.org.
The ancient fan grinding to a gradual halt wakes Xander up.
He's been sleeping fitfully all night. It's the heat. Sunnydale
August is hot and humid and there's no air conditioning in the basement,
nothing to move the air around except the fan. Now dead.
Xander is sprawled across the bed, spread eagled so as much of his skin
is exposed to the now still air as possible. He's kicked the sheets away
in his sleep. His boxers stick to his thighs, his hair sticks to his
forehead and feels like a furnace on the back of his neck, and it seems like
everything in the world is sticking to *something*. And he's pissed in a
sleepy, petulant way because he's tired and wants to go back to sleep,
but the air is so heavy and hot and every breath only makes him more
aware of his discomfort.
He knows there's another fan down here somewhere buried under last
year's garage sale rejects, the things no one wanted to pay even a
dollar for. He could get up and find it. But that would mean actually
getting up, which mean actually waking up and damn it, he's tired.
There's a rustle of movement but Xander determinedly keeps his eyes
closed. If he doesn't open them he's not awake and the chances for
tricking himself back into sleep are excellent.
The fan makes tiny ticking noises that almost disguise the other
basement noises. A creak of the chair. A soft sound like a sigh. A
whispery noise, like the sound cellophane makes when you crinkle it and
hey. Xander *knows* that sound.
And Xander's lips want to smirk. Really want to smirk because this is
awful and funny at the same time.
Jerking off. Spike. Undead, and jerking off. Probably using
issues of Penthouse that also hadn't made the cut at garage sale.
So maybe it's not fair to want to laugh at Spike for practicing Xander's
favorite pre-Anya pastime. But he can't help picturing Spike's face
contorted in a goofy 'I'm going to come' grimace and he *knows* his lips
twitched. The harder he tries not to smile, the more his lips demand
that he do exactly that, but Xander knows once he gives ground on the
smile, the laugh will demand equal time.
And okay, laughing at Spike is not of the bad. A small part of Xander
*likes* having someone around *to* be laughed at. But another part of,
the part listening intently to each sound, is too embarrassed to call
attention to the fact that he's awake. Has been listening and hasn't
said something, hasn't rolled over or shifted or done anything to alert
Spike that he might just have an audience here.
The smile is still hanging in there, gamely trying to break free, but
with every little sound, soft and slick, it's beaten back. Because the
mental face Spike wears now isn't goofy at all. It's hard. Intent.
He can hear each stroke clearly now. Long. Slow.
then Xander realizes he's *not* hearing something. No rustle of pages
turning. Spike must've found a doozy of a picture, then.
It doesn't take much effort at all to recall some of his favorites.
They were all pretty much the same, when you get right down to it. Long
legs, big tits, clouds of silky hair and perfectly pink, moist pussies.
Airbrushed perfection, yeah, but beggars can't be choosers.
Spike can't be too choosy tonight because there's still no paper noises.
Right on the heels of *this* thought Xander realizes his cock is wide
awake too. And his fingers are twitching, just at the tips, like there
was something of great interest they really wanted to investigate.
Somewhere right after that thought, Xander realizes he's forgotten all
about falling back to sleep and is instead listening with unnatural,
maybe even perverse, intensity to the sound of his undead houseguest
jerking off. Still just as slow. Maybe not even jerking off. More
like caressing. Fondling. Like it feels *good*, so good it can't be
And suddenly Xander wants to see.
He slits an eye open, just the smallest crack, so small his lashes
obscure his view. And the first thing he sees is Spike's cock. The
head of his cock, slightly less pale than the fingers wrapped around the
shaft just below.
Spike's long, white fingers gently pull. His thumb strokes over the
head, swipes up a drop of pre-come and brings it down to the fingers.
Slick, shiny fingers and suddenly Xander swears he can smell the
Vaseline underneath the scent of his own sleep sweat.
And he's aware that he's inhaling just as intently as he's listening and
watching and he wants to hold his breath, but then Spike's fingers
stroke down and his hips thrust up a little and Xander can see oh
Hard, shiny and different. Not circumcised.
He's staring. He knows he's passed the point of being able to ignore
that he's staring at another man jerking off, another man's cock. He's
watching as Spike's fingertips circle the base of his cock while his
hips gently rock and Xander swallows. Hard.
Because there is no magazine.
Xander glances up to make sure, but he already knows. Spike is looking
at him. Jerking off and looking at him.
Time to look away, time to do something. Xander takes a breath and--
"I know you're awake, Xander."
Soft, quiet voice and for a second Xander thinks he's imagined it,
because Spike's hand never stops and his gaze doesn't even touch on
Xander's face but then, "I know you're watching me."
He can't know, Xander thinks. Can't. Maybe this is Spike jerk off
fantasy number 9: Talking dirty to the sleeping boy.
So he doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't close his eye. Just keeps
peeking at Spike's face and yeah, his brain was mostly right about
that. Still human. Eyebrows slightly knit in concentration, eyelids
heavy. Mouth slightly parted and moist, like he'd been staring at
Xander, at Xander's cock --which is now obviously hard, obviously
straining against the front of boxers-- and licking his lips. And yeah,
yeah, there's Spike's tongue, pink tip delicately running over his upper
lip. Quick cat lick, then the lower lip, a little slower, lingering at
the corner and Xander flushes when he realizes he's doing the same.
And maybe Spike does this all the time. Maybe he looks at Xander every
night and Xander's breath hitches as he swallows.
Maybe he does more then just look. Because Spike gives his cock one
last stroke, gets up and walks over the bed. Cock swaying with each
slow, measured step and--
And Xander can't even pretend to be asleep now, because his eyes open
wide when Spike tiger crawls over the bed. Xander doesn't move, doesn't
even breathe when Spike places a hand on either side of his head and
smiles down into Xander's face.
"Got an eyeful then, did you?"
Not looking down, nope. Except it would seem he is indeed looking down
and is going to say something witty and cutting like, "Get off me, you
fuck" but what comes out is an appalled, fascinated whisper. "You're
getting me wet."
He can't tear his gaze away from each steady drip of pre-come as they
land on the front of his boxers, swears he can feel them, cool and
slick, seeping through the thin cotton and onto the head of his cock.
And still remains motionless when Spike looks down as well, the top of
his head brushing Xander's cheek and mildly says, "Yeah. I am."
Then Spike, still looking down, flexes his hips and drags the tip of his
cock over the outline of Xander's. Watches as Xander's cock twitches in
a decidedly interested manner. Murmurs, still without looking up, "That
is so fucking sexy, Xander. Do it again."
And Xander shudders when his cock doesn't so much twitch as it jumps and
okay, enough is enough, even though the turned on against his will kind
of thing seems to be just fine and dandy with his cock.
He grabs Spike's hips to push him away and the first thing his dazed
mind can process is the sensation of cool. Cool, smooth skin and his
mouth lets out a surprised sound, an oh sound.
And he's not pushing away so much as holding Spike still and that makes
Spike look up.
Pinned there under him, hands on his hips and Spike looking at him with
one eyebrow raised, waiting and this is where he's supposed to say 'Get
But his skin is so *cool* and Xander's fingers don't seem interested in
anything but touching it. So soft and cool and he's not pushing, not
holding but stroking. Exploring, even and he should stop, he should
And Spike's eyes get heavy and he makes an unintelligible noise and his
hips move like silk under Xander's fingers and... Not stopping.
The slide and press of Spike's cock, rubbing, wet and cool, and his hand
is curling around it.
Long and thick.
And now the idea of stopping seems very far off now because all of
Spike is pressed against him now, absorbing the heat and his face is
buried in Xander's neck. Licking and mouthing and growling. Even his
tongue is cool and suddenly Xander is overcome by the thought of how
that tongue might feel on his cock and he knows. He's not stopping.
Thick, heavy cock in his hands, warming slightly as his strokes speed up
and there are words under the growls, harsh and panted into his ear.
"Yeah. Yeah, just like that."
"Shut up." Muttered fast "Don't talk, okay? Just...just let me."
Soft chuckle, cool, wet lick right on his pulse and, "Fine. Just don't
And he can do that, is not going to stop, no. Arches his neck and rocks
his hips into the back of his hand. Glancing, unsatisfying touches and
he has to bite his lip, but the words get out anyway. "Touch me."
A low groan and a bite that almost hurts, then a shift and oh. Jesus.
Cool fingers pushing his boxers down, then wrapping around him. Pulling
and he doesn't even care when Spike mutters, "Like that, do you?"
"Yes." Slim, dexterous fingers expertly jerking him off, like Spike
knows, like maybe he's watched Xander when he was supposed to be
sleeping and this time, on a groan, "Yes."
"You're such a little slut, Xander."
And maybe that's fair, but, "You started this. You were...you were
looking at me."
Long, lingering stroke and, "Yes."
Xander bucks, hard. Tries to force Spike's hand into a faster rhythm
and growls when the slow, even tempo remains unchanged. "Why?"
"Because you're pretty," and no time to protest before Spike lays the
flat of his tongue against the side of Xander's throat and doesn't so
much lick as *drag* it up over his throat, his stubbly jaw and cheek and
it's freakish and a little disgusting and too fucking hot for Xander to
do more than jerk Spike a little harder, a little faster.
Reflex motion almost, this is what he wants to do to his own cock, but
his hand is suddenly too stupid to know the difference.
"Oh, that's it, pet..."
Another lick and Spike stroking a little faster and Xander's brain is
like this balloon with a long, slippery string that he can't seem to
hold on to and
"I know you don't want me to talk, but I think I'd like you to know
exactly who you're fucking."
And oh *fuck*. Surging helpless, ragged motions on Spike's cock before
he can control himself because oh. That image. Spike, naked on his
belly, lean strong back and Xander remembers exactly how smooth it
looked... tracking device whiskey something something --
Shuddering and trying to get some control back. Opens his eyes and
that's a big mistake because Spike is *watching* him. Grinning into his
face like... well, like a demon. Like a demon who knows exactly what
Xander is thinking. Right on time -- in the sense of being much too late
-- his brain suggests that this could be a bad idea.
And then Spike is kissing him, devouring him, and Xander doesn't know if
the kiss is different or if it's just that whole, hey, he's a vampire
thing that some part of his mind is undoubtedly screaming madly about
and hand knocked away and *press*
Skin to so much fucking skin. Cool and dry and Xander wants it to be as
hot and slick as he is and his cock is doing its part, working up and up
against Spike's. Sweet fucking friction and he knows he's moaning around
Spike's tongue but he can't think of anything to do about that.
Spike's hands finding his and disentangling and oh *fuck* yes, more
skin, forgotten skin, acres of it and Xander spreads his legs before he
can think and the sounds... Slick sliding skin, his own sweat making it
smooth and oiled and necessary and Spike just... just fucking driving
against him and Xander driving right back and he knows he won't last
can't last but he can't slow down.
Spike won't *let* him slow down, growls when he tries, grabs Xander by
the wrists and holds and thrusts and it's so *good*.
Broken kiss and Spike buried at his throat just growling and getting
*angry*. Xander can feel it in every millimeter of skin and he feels
mean and he feels free and he rubs and rubs his throat against Spike's
hard face and when he cries out Spike saves him with a hand over his
mouth and he shoots.
Groaning steady against Spike's hand and jerking and jerking until it's
over and then falling back, slumping back and oh. God. Spike still on
Spike kneeling up over him, watching. Cock arching toward his flat
belly. Stroking himself slowly and watching. And just when Xander's
breathing finally starts to slow: "Look at my cock."
Which is... "Wha?"
"Look at it."
And, OK, Spike kink. *Catering* to Spike kink but he's looking.
Genuinely rosy head. Cock paler than it should be to be that hard, but
yeah, that's the thing... that's the *dick* he's been stroking and
thrusting against. Weird, distanced ache in his palm, like Spike branded
him there. Or like his hand wants to be back where Spike's is.
On that really kind of big... cock. Testing it in his mind, the way
Spike says it that makes it even dirtier, even simpler. And yeah, he's
looking at it.
Licks his lips and tries to shake it off and when he looks up Spike is
almost *glaring* at him. Somewhere between rage and glaze-eyed lust and
Xander... licks his lips again..
Watches Spike wince, his hand judder slick over his own cock.
"Do you want this, Xander?"
"Oh..." Because... that's what... wondering how long his mouth has been
open like this. Tearing his eyes away from Spike's just gives him the
look of lean muscled torso, dark hard nipples. Smooth white skin and
gently pumping hips. Spike's rock hard cock.
"Do you want me to come in your mouth?"
And shaking his head violently but his cock twitches, betrays him. Bad,
mean, stupid cock and this means... this means he has to, doesn't it?
With nothing like reason, just the feeling low in his belly as clear,
thick pre-come leaks from the head of Spike's cock, foreskin bundled
back away from it and and.
When Spike reaches behind Xander's head, when he buries his slick
fingers in Xander's hair and holds him still, when he rests the head of
his cock on Xander's lower lip. When. Oh.
Taste exploding in his mouth as Spike pushes in, as Xander opens wide
and his mouth is so *wet*. He's drooling like a baby at a nipple, has to
*suck* and he does. Sudden, graceless and Spike makes a noise.
"Ohh, good *lad*. Just for that you can have some more..."
And his brain has *nothing* for him, his brain is on vacation and his
mouth is being stretched much too wide and oh... Spike stroking his
face, whispering things that make Xander blush. Good and pretty Xander
and his tight, hot mouth and there's about six miles of cock to go when
Spike bumps up against the back of his throat and Xander is breathing
fast through his nose, too fast, and it's all making him dizzy and
shivery and so *hard*.
"Shh, shh... oh, that's right, pet. Use your tongue. You're a virgin to
this, aren't you? That's so... oh. Oh, yes, that's so sweet."
Wet, wet noises and he knows he's the one making them. Slurping and
sucking and licking frantically because... because oh God, he *has* to.
Gets his clumsy hand up around the base of Spike's dick and pumps while
he's sucking and he can see himself from outside, see himself pumping
Spike's dick into his mouth and *drooling* around it and Xander's
whimpering and Spike's hushing him and there is no part of Xander that
doesn't need to be touched --
And there's no way he can say that even if there wasn't a cock in his
mouth but he tries. Sucking harder and pumping faster and Spike isn't
stroking him any more. Spike is tensed all over and Xander suddenly
knows how badly Spike wants to just rape his mouth and knows it's only
the chip holding him back and Xander wants to run and he wants to laugh
at Spike and he wants to know how to *do* this, wants a way to swallow
Spike whole and he's suddenly deeply aware of his ass.
Terrified now and Xander opens his eyes and Spike's are closed. Bracing
himself on the wall with one hand and holding Xander's head still with
the other and biting his own lip and drawing blood with his fangs. Blood
dripping down his chin and it falls on Xander's cheek and it's just as
cool and thick as everything else and he can see what it would be like,
jammed up hard against wherever Spike pressed him, sucking and sucking.
Just like now b because oh because --
And Xander's mouth is numbing here and sore there and he can't help
begging Spike to come, groaning around his cock and when Spike opens his
eyes again to look Xander pleads with his own.
"Fucking gorgeous --" Hiss to a long, low growl and Spike is coming,
thick and room temperature and Xander swallows and chokes when Spike
suddenly slips *in* for a heartbeat that makes Spike curse and shoot
another jet of come and Xander swallows what he can. Lets the rest
ribbon out of the corners of his mouth and he feels... Profoundly used.
In a not-bad way.
In a sick, horrifying way that is somehow not bad.
Spike kisses him and Xander tastes blood and smoke.
Spike licks him clean, then wipes at him with the corner of one of
Xander's pillows. Kisses him again and Xander can respond a little
better and he does and... it's an after-sex kiss. Just like any other.
Grateful and lusty but not hungry. Long and wet and Spike is grinning.
Glance ticking over Xander's face with something like... acquisitive
glee and this is very, very bad. And he's wracking his brain for
something, anything to say that is simultaneously polite, horrified,
grateful, and regret-this-can't-happen-again-ful when Spike messes up
the whole works by kissing him again.
His cock is still way too sensitive but, yes, he's definitely half-hard
And the refractory time for vamps is apparently nil.
"You're going to use this to ruin my life, aren't you?"
Lazy grin. "Look at it this way: the way your life is going, a bit of
ruination might just be the best thing for everybody."
"By everybody you mean, of course..."
Xander sighs. "Of course."
A pause and Spike is shifting, moving in the sticky mess between them,
small motions just short of actual thrusts that make Xander gasp and
try to move them faster. "That's right, Pet. Forget your troubles --"
"C'mon, get happy? I bet there are about 6000 different species of
demons willing to kill *anything* that quotes show tunes."
"*You're* the one that... oh, oh yeah *here* --"
"*Fuck*--" Spike pinching his nipples much too hard and the chip should
be punishing him for it but Xander's body doesn't seem to be yelling 'pain'
so much as 'yes.'
"Wanna do more than just hump you, Xander..."
And maybe if he doesn't say anything the thought will go away. Like if
Xander just closes his eyes and turns his head and lets his body
do all the things the big stupid slut part of him wants to do the thought
will go away.
Because, well, *more*.
More could be a lot of things.
Like Spike moving away and the heat of the room just smothering him
in something like wet wool, heat-scratchy and oppressive and he opens
his eyes and Spike is looking at him again.
Hand swirling in the come on Xander's belly.
Hand up, palm toward him and Xander can see Spike's face between the
shiny-slick fingers and it's just too *normal*. Just your average, every
day, open-mouthed hungry half-sneering horny guy *look*. Watching
Xander watch the hand.
"Spread your legs, luv."
"Why?" Deciding to try panic.
"Because I want to shove my fingers up your arse and fuck you so hard
you see stars."
"Oh. Ohh fuck." And there goes his thighs, fanning, shifting, because
panic had *nothing* on direct and dirty because.
Because it was like a need Xander never knew he had and watching Spike
grin and swoop in -- hand on one of his wayward knees and the other...
and the touch of Spike's fingers slicking, cool and wet down the band of
flesh behind his balls bring Xander right up to panic again.
"W-wait!" Momentary clench of Xander's whole body, but it passes and
when Spike looks up at him the grin is... smaller. Tighter. Infinitely
scarier and his heart sends out a giant wallop of ice cold adrenaline to
the rest of his body that screams *Run*. Message, sadly, not received.
All his body does is hump up against Spike's hand and lose the rhythm
of its breathing. The tight grin uncurls a little.
"Sure, pet," Spike says, but the fingers don't stop. Slide down and are
then at his asshole. His least sexiest place and no one should ever touch
you there and oh god, Spike's fingers circling circling and how does that
Hands over his own mouth because he's making sounds again, kind of
helpless gasping sounds because it's almost like being tickled but not
really and what it really makes him want is *more*. Humping down and
trying to get --
Spike's other hand, pushing his leg a little too far -- not quite pain but
he can't move now and it makes his hips aggressive in their
"How long d'ya want me to wait, then?" And ohhhh it's such a fucking lie
because the fingers keep slipping, round and round and *in*, just a flicker
but it makes him jump and gasp. Makes pre-come strand and spatter
against his thighs.
"That's the plan." And it's more the smile than the words that hooks
him for another helpless buck and *oof* the fingers *in* just a little
more. Enough to almost hurt and almost feel bad but in such a good way
that Xander can't get enough like this. He needs...
And blanks at the way his mind suddenly catches up with Spikes words
and gives him a picture of both of them naked, Spike between his legs
and *fucking* him -- the picture making his whole body spasm and he
moans in stark, helpless, terrified lust and the fingers drive *in*...
And ohhhh it *hurts* but but but it ohhh it hurts so *good* and Xander
is gasping, looking up at Spike -- face all tight with concentration, pain
and ... oh! Game-face and Xander's body spasms again.
His body like this helpless out of control rubber thing with electricity
shooting through it making it clench and unclench and oh fuck *buzz*.
He's so hard, out of control hard and nowhere near coming yet and and
*Vampire*. Vampire has him. *Spike* is doing this. Not helpless any
more Spike, but William the Bloody.
Out of control psycho vampire on a little thin leash inside him and
it's wrong wronger wrongest but he actually can't tell if that's fear
shooting through him now. Because it feels so good.
"Yeh," Spike says. Growls. So tense. Intense.
Inside. "Feels good,
don't it.. Gets better." Xander bucks. and *in* and owww.
Pain again. Knife pain and and it's not really getting better, really
getting worse and Xander can't spread his knees any wider. Spike is
wedged somehow, hissing against his own pain and why doesn't it make
him *stop*. Please stop please -- and then a shift and *don't* stop and
oh christ, like crying, Xander wants more but he doesn't know what
more even is or could be because it hurts --
"Re*lax*" and from nowhere Spike's hand is on his cock and pumping.
Pure silver shot of pre-orgasmy goodness and Xander's body doesn't
relax so much as melt and Spike drives *in* and something breaks,
Inside and absolutely painless, something breaks. Open.
Shivering echo in the quiet. He'd yelled. And they were... they
waiting, listening for footsteps on the creaky floor upstairs. For
the knock on the door. All Xander can hear is his own heartbeat, not
so much as sound but the thunder of it inside him, all his pulse points.
Around Spike's fingers.
Which are moving again. Just a little. Wormy.
It's so awful Xander wants to writhe away from it, but when his hips
move it's so good he makes animal noises. He shoves his own wrist
between his jaws to muffle the sounds.
And that works great on the noise problem but now he sounds more
helpless and breathily victim-y and why is this *good*? Well. Okay. He
can see why it's good for Spike. And what's good for Spike is getting
transmitted through Spike's fingers and *flash* --
I am Xander's Prostate. I am a happy thing. And please Spike,
legs so I don't thrash too much while you *flash*...
*flash* *flash* Life is a snapshot. I'm going to come, Spike. Is
But he doesn't come, Spike fingers pull out and oh he's as empty as he
knew he'd be and Spike's hand on his belly again (and it's Spike's hand
that feels warm, his belly cold) and sliding back in, slicker, colder -- just
a fingernail of pain this time and up into the sweet broken part and
"--nderrrrr. Beautiful... like this. Fucking hot. Going to
fuck you now,
pet. Say you're ready."
"Ready..." Just an echo. He can't imagine what ready means. Can't
imagine anything beyond exactly what is happening. Fingers leaving
again. Spike shifting (and he knows, the part of him that can't lie to
himself for even one second knows and records meticulously -- Spike
slicking himself -- fast, merciless strokes on his cock that is way too
big to fit into any part of Xander; Spike shaking himself, shaking his
head and shaking off the game-face like it was water or clay or --
pushing Xander's knees back and up, kind of rolling him up to make him
open and he can't breathe --
which is just fine, just good and Spike is over him now, balanced one
handed and intense and there's the nudge of Spike's cock at his ass.
Just a nudge but he's so soft there now, so ready Spike just sinks in.
Sinks in maybe a whole quarter of an inch and then there's just no
*way*... no fucking *way*... it *hurts*. Xander tries to pull back but
rolled up he just can't do anything but buck. Buck more of himself onto
the huge, blunt rod that wants...*in*.
Yelling again and Spike's hand is back on his cock and is body is so
fucked *up* -- hot and cold and hurt and good and more, needs more.
Wants past the pain, and --
"Let it -- let it happen, Xander. It's gonna happen. Let
voice is tight and all his weight held back and shaking but not letting up
one ounce of pressure. Unbearable pressure all right there, right
inside him, burning, coring at the place where he was broken open before.
And he wants.
"Yeh," Breathless. "Do it."
Spike rock hard and motionless now. Iron rod that he can batter himself
onto, make himself soft and open for and letting go of everything, wanting
that place that sweet sweet--
*Spike is fucking him*
*Place*. Shocked to sudden stillness by the breach. Slit and
sudden painless slide of Spike whole to the root.
The fist that skins his cock almost a pale sparkling aftershock to this.
And realizing with something like a shock that he's nothing *like* still.
Jerking and whining under Spike's cool weight, Spike's slow, deliberate
pull out and thrust. Fucking. Him.
"Spike!" Hoarse whisper of a yell.
Not even sure what he's trying to do. Urge him to hurry? Make it stop?
Spike gives no answer but his continued steady fuck, eyes closed within
game face and suddenly Xander has this sense, sense memory of slipping
into Anya's body, and eleven hundred years of renewed demonic virginity,
and struggling to hold himself back from all that heat and ruthless
tightness and now... Spike feeling the same thing.
All this on the waves of vicious pleasure still wracking Xander, shuddering
his skin into goosebumps even as he sweats high and musky and sex and
Spike's hand on his cock is so and Spike's cock is *inside* him and
Xander has to arch his neck up, has to buck more, and more because Spike
isn't allowed to have control. Not here.
"*Fuck*. Catching right on, are we? Well... a good *and* smart lad gets --"
Yelling because while the upstroke was slow the down is fast and hard
and reminiscent of pain and also just... and how is he supposed to keep
hold to himself? It's an attack and Xander just wants more and he
can't get a hold on Spike's smooth smooth skin and the cool of it is
just another burn and his thighs are screaming and it adds to everything
and Spike's eyes are open again.
Lambent yellow caught between Xander's own thrashing, closing and
opening his eyes, blinking and shaking away the hair falling into his
face and Spike's mouth is open and those teeth are awful long and Xander
has to laugh.
Just laugh between choked sobs and buck up faster and the stretch of
his smile is suddenly just another cord between his mind and his
twitching, drooling cock.
Spike's hand slick shiny with pre-come and stroking and squeezing him
and the rhythm is just beyond comprehension, Xander has to trust
his body to respond because it's all too complicated, too *much*,
heavy haze falling all over his mind leaving Xander and his body to fend
Spike growling now, flat and animal and quietly intense and yeah, yeah
not funny but somehow *joyous* to be able to do this to him, to make
him growl and fuck him so hard, make him open inside, helpless and
hot and yeah yeah maybe melting Spike inside him. Making him feel
heat that must be unbearable, making him drive for it no matter what
the cost and Xander's losing it, the threads of it, the control of
it as his body breaks and rolls, breaks and rolls. Spike's hips snapping
faster, too fast to feel as more than just a blur of *need*, random
strokes hitting Xander where he needs it most.
"Fuck, *Xander* --"
And he wants to say something witty but all that comes out is something
between a wail and a keen and
"That's oh that's so good..."
Spike tossing his own head, lacquered hair shaking free into unruly
spikes and Xander wants to muss it further, wants to drag Spike
down to just *touch* him and oh, he must have said that out loud
because Spike leans down and in and the angle shifts are killing things,
shooting load after load of pre-come, need to fuck and surrender and
Spike's growl against his mouth and his hard, hard kiss and Xander
*yells* into Spike's mouth and shoots hard and trembling.
And then Spike up again and just *riding* him, hips pumping much too
fast and Spike scrabbling at Xander's chest, nipples, thumb on
his pulsepoint and when he comes Xander's suddenly full to bursting.
Knows intellectually it's not that much, no big deal but it makes him
flush even harder because there's someone else's come in his *ass* and
it's slipping around and sleeking Spike's still hard cock inside, still
hard and pumping and Spike's breathy little grunts and the twist of
his nipple hurts and it's like an aftershock and it's like his cock
manfully attempting to rise to the challenge and Spike won't *stop*.
Like, Jesus, even his *fuck* is Undead and Xander moans and tries to beg
for it to stop but it's just more moans until finally Spike slows down,
slower and slower until it stops entirely and Spike, bracing himself
Eyes closed again, face human again.
"You can unfold your legs now, you know." Touch of breathless humor.
"I think I need a crowbar."
Snorted laugh and Spike is simultaneously slipping out and oh, fuck,
dragging out what feels like Xander's entire set of internal organs
with him and the sensation makes him wish two hundred year old
vampires paused long enough for condoms.
Helping Xander unfold and Xander tries not to squirm and tries not
to blush and fails utterly at both when Spike uses his t-shirt to
wipe them both down --
"C'mon, Xander, part of the fun is the mess."
"Uh-huh. Let's hear you say that from the other end of things."
And Spike doesn't even pause. "Anytime, ducks."
Easy grin and Xander is flushing again. Wonders if blood gets tired from
all that rushing around and *wham* the image suddenly hits. Spike, bent
over *something*, working himself back on Xander's cock.
And the best Xander can come up with is "Oh."
Spike's smile is deeply wicked. Moreso. "Yeh. Now shove over."
"This is just your way of getting to sleep in the bed, isn't it?"
"Working, innit? Get the light."
Xander snickers, loses himself briefly in the feel of laughter, then just
snickers some more. "You're closer."
"Lazy fucking mortals."
And Xander's snoring before Spike stops muttering.