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Happy Endings Ficathon - Two Can Play
My assignment was for a slash story with any two characters from: Angel/Spike/Xander/Wesley/Giles
It was requested by Claire/![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mirasol with the following:
Up to three things you would like included in your story: aspidistra, sea-green, "wax on, wax off"
Up to three things you would not like in the story: I'm easy, I don't mind. :)
Rating preference: R to NC-17 (but I'll take lower if the author isn't happy with this)
So...I tossed it around and what follows is what came out of it. It's my first Xander/Spike fic, and its also told in first person (which is new and different for my fan fic) from Xander's point of view. The particulars are:
Title: Two Can Play
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Contains sex. Male homosexual sex. Don't read if you don't like.
Spoilers: Through end of BtVS, takes place post series
Disclaimer: Not mine...never were...I take them out and play when I'm bored though...
Summary: Spike and Xander...with sex...and a happy ending....not to mention the other stuff, as requested!
*cross posted to AO3*
Two Can Play
The nightmares don’t come as much as they used to, but that only means that I don’t wake up gasping for air three or four times a night anymore. Most nights it’s only once, especially on nights he knocks on the door, when I invite him inside and we sit up in the dark. It was an odd little ritual, always the same…until it wasn’t anymore.
We had a few beers, even though it was nearly two in the morning. We talked about Buffy and business and the way he always showed up on my doorstop when most normal people were asleep, including me
“We ain’t never gonna be normal, chick pea. Best get used to that.”
I laughed, snorted really, cause it wasn’t like I’d ever considered myself normal. Okay, maybe once, but not since grade school and certainly never since I’d met Buffy. “Can you say, Duh?” I countered and tossed him another beer.
“Nice come back.”
“You woke me up, I’m not at my best.”
“Look alright to me.”
I smiled, though I hid it behind my beer. I’m not sure why we have to play this game every time, but we do. “Didn’t know you were looking, big guy.”
He moaned. “Don’t call me that. You call Angel that. I’m not Angel.”
I snorted again. “Again with the Duh.” I shifted so that my bare foot was touching his leg. “You’re much more blonde…and have that nifty accent.”
“Jolly right.” His hand connected with my foot, idly stroking it. It felt nice. So little of life felt like that. It seemed odd that this would, or that I would want it to…but I did. His eyes flashed my way before sliding over to the television in the corner. We had it on, but hadn’t been really watching it as we talked and drank. He made a face at it and shook his head. “Never did get that.”
“What?” I turned so that I could look with something other than an eye patch, instantly recognizing the scrawny kid on the TV.
“How is any of that practical? In a real fight, he’d be on the bloody end of a beating.”
I grinned. “Want me to show you?” He leaned back and rolled his head toward me, the dare in his eyes. We usually took longer getting to this part, but I stood and moved over him, straddling his legs and lowering myself until I sat on his knees. “First we have to take this off.” I pulled at the t-shirt, getting it loose from his jeans before he realized where I was going and helped. “Now, how did that go?”
I put my left palm onto his chest, just inside his right nipple. “Wax on.” I made soft circles with my palm over his skin, over his nipple which came up hard and fast. “Wax off.” I did the same to the other nipple with my right hand. His eyes closed and his body tensed as I repeated the process. I could feel him getting hard underneath me and rocked a little to press our groins together as I “waxed” him a third time, then stood up and plopped back onto the couch, reaching for my beer.
“Bloody hell.” His head snapped up and looked at me. “’S that all?”
I nodded and turned to watch the movie. “Bloody tease, are we?” I grinned. Usually we talked until we were both drunk, then we’d fuck each other, I’d get up and head off to work and he’d be gone when I came home. I wasn’t drunk yet, only buzzy and feeling feisty. “Two can play at that game.”
He was on me before his threat registered, his hand instantly wrapping around my partially hard cock through my pajamas and slowly pulling it up. His mouth on my ear growled “Up.” His hand got to the top and turned a little before he moved it back down with the accompanying growl, “Down.”
“Damn, Spike.” He let go after two passes, falling back into his corner of the couch and turning to the television as if he were alone in the room. I tried to breathe through it, will it away, but my cock was hard and ready for more. “That wasn’t fair.”
He raised his eyebrows at me and wiggled them, sticking out his tongue. When he was like that, playful and comfortable I could almost forget. I groaned in an effort to get some sympathy, but he wasn’t biting…not that I wanted the biting, or maybe I did, but didn’t know it…and well, that wasn’t the point.
No, the point was I was horny. I’d started a game and now I wanted to end it. I’d forgotten that Spike was good with the torment. Way better than I’d ever be. I tried the foot thing again, but he slapped it away. I huffed and let my own hand caress the hardness he’d created. Fine if he was going to be like that, maybe I’d just take care of it myself.
I scarcely closed my eye when his hands were on mine, pulling them away. “Now, now…good boys don’t play that way.” He pulled my hands up, over my head, his lips taking control of my mouth. He tasted like beer as his tongue rubbed over mine. Beer and Cheetos. That was the only contact. His lips and his hands. It was frustrating, and hot. When he let go I moaned. “Spike.”
“You started it mate,” he said, going to the fridge for another beer. “Shouldn’t ought to start a game you don’t want to play.”
At that moment I hated him. I’d hated him before, and for a long time. I mean, we are talking about Spike. But there’d been a lot of…I won’t say love. I don’t think anyone would say love. Like maybe. I’d grown to like him. And, the sex. Because well, hell it was…sex and good. Maybe not the first time. Then it was painful and awkward and we both lived in Denial Land for a long time after. But no, right then it was hate.
I hated the way he just walked into my life when he felt like it. I hated the way my body jumped when he spoke to me. I hated the fact that I didn’t hate him like I had when I was still in Sunnydale. I hated how his staring at me was making me hot enough to blow steam.
He took a swig of beer and stood there looking at me, bare chested and more than a little aroused himself if the half-unzipped fly was telling me the truth. His eyes were glittering with amusement, but had a hard edge to them. Something was changing between us, and I had a sneaking suspicion that if we saw this through both of us would have to rethink things.
I got up and moved past him into the kitchen. I wanted to find a way to gain an advantage, even if it would be short lived. My groin ached and I wanted nothing more than to jump on him and take this to the usual wordless sex-place that had become oddly familiar.
I cracked a beer, my eye sweeping the kitchen for something I could use. I’m not all that inventive, not like he is. I nearly gave in, when I spotted the fork on the counter. I picked it up, stealing a glance toward Spike. He had his back to me, watching the movie, standing in the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room/bedroom of the tiny apartment.
My first attempt was too tentative, the fork sliding almost unnoticed over the muscles in his back. The second earned a hiss and I followed it by rolling the cold surface of the beer bottle over the red streaks the fork raised.
“Wha’s that one called?” he asked as I did it again. He was pressing back into the fork, and I could see his jaw working.
I grinned, surprised I’d found something to tease him with. “Its my version of catching a fly in chopsticks.” I said, before he spun around. My beer went flying and he caught the hand with the fork in it. We struggled for a minute, a little thrill of fear racing through me, as he pushed me until my back was against the refrigerator. It didn’t escape me that he could snap me in two it he wanted to. Then, his knee was between my legs, pressing against my groin and the fear and arousal fed one another until I was panting.
“So, which one of us is the fly?” he asked, his hand slipping past the waistband of my pajama bottoms.
I swallowed hard. All witty comebacks and snarky comments were gone. The whole world could go with them if he just kept touching me that way. His fingers swept over my belly, just inside the top of my pants. His lips were on my neck, which was a new thing. I mean…hello, vampire…neck…but God! What his tongue was doing, then the teeth…not the vampire ones, just the normal manly ones, nipping at my skin while he ground his knee up against my cock and I nearly came right there in the kitchen.
“Spike.” I sagged against the fridge, breathing hard.
“Mmmm?” His attention shifted to my chest, using that tongue on my nipples…his hand circled my cock, squeezing and stroking it.
“Spike.”
“Stop talking Love. I’m trying to work here.”
I’m not sure when I lost what was my only article of clothing…or the ability to speak, but when Spike’s big hand on my belly pushed me against the fridge and his mouth surrounded my cock, they were both gone. I tried to hold off, but the sight of him on his knees was almost more than I could take. In all the times we’d done the deed, this was one deed we hadn’t done.
“Spi-“ I grabbed his head reflexively and he opened his throat, swallowing and sucking and….oh.my.god…was that humming? I bucked, but his hands held me up, held me in place as I came (right there in the kitchen)…and then after, as my heartbeat raced and my breathing followed it, and then as his lips released me and I was fairly certain I would be collapsed on the floor, if not for those hands.
Spike stood, or rather, slithered up my naked body, looking all proud of himself. His kiss was almost tender. Kiss. I pulled back, hitting my head on the fridge, then shaking it. When had we gone to the kissing place?
“What?” he asked, his face showing hurt and a flash of anger.
“We don’t kiss, Spike…do we?”
“Seemed a logical follow on, Love,” he responded, leaning in to kiss me again. “Didn’t seem to mind earlier.”
Earlier. On the couch. With the teasing. “Right.”
His body was pressed against mine, his fingers in my hair. My knees were like rubber, but it didn’t matter because he was there, holding me up. I was fairly certain that etiquette demanded that I treat him to a matching orgasm, but I didn’t know if I could. I mean, I hadn’t ever…not with Spike…not with anyone of the male persuasion. I pressed a hand to his cock and he groaned into my mouth. It took me a minute to unbutton him, especially with the distraction of Spike’s lips on my lips…neck…shoulders…
It filled my hand, already leaking pre-cum. I used my thumb to rub some of the fluid over the thick head and Spike leaned into me, moaning and growling in my ear. I stroked him for a minute, then exhaled. “Sit down.” I pushed him toward the kitchen chair, my only kitchen chair and he stumbled to a seat, his pants around his thighs, his cock sticking up at me.
I knelt in front of him slowly, my eyes on his cock, watching it move as he settled. I felt his touch on my cheek and looked up. “You don’t have to,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, but his eyes filled with need, lust…dark and glittery.
It only made me want it. Me, wanting this…whatever this was. I flashed my best Xander grin and yanked his jeans down to his ankles. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but we had turned some sort of corner here, and there was no going back.
I exhaled and watched his cock twitch as the moist air hit it. Encouraging. I had never been this close to it before, not like this. Usually it was…well different, less intimate. I decided to start by licking, licking isn’t hard, just the tip of my tongue, up the underside of his cock, from almost half way up to the tip. The salty pre-cum wasn’t as unpleasant as I’d imagined and the way Spike stiffened and hissed seemed like a good sign.
I tried the swirly thing Anya used to do and Spike squirmed, nearly coming off the chair. Okay, I’m not the only one who likes that. Good to know. Time for the next step. I started with just the head, closing my lips around it and sucking in just a little. His hand found my head and I took a little more into my mouth.
“Christ!” Spike thrust upward, pressing himself deeper into my mouth than I was prepared for. I tried not to panic, mostly succeeding, and did the swirly thing again. I shifted on my knees, moving upward for a better angle. His eyes were closed, head thrown back, his free hand holding on the table to keep from going over backwards. I slipped one hand between his legs and caressed his balls, then opened my mouth, taking him all in and sucking. He hissed and thrust, his hand holding my head as he slid in and out.
“Xander…God…bloody hell…” He pulled my head back and came, sputtering curses and roaring, his whole body shaking. The sight made me instantly hard again, that and his use of my actual name. Spike never called me by my name. Hell Spike hardly calls anyone by their names.
As the shaking stopped he pulled me up to kiss him, and I got all weak in the knees again. Then he was scooping me up like a little girl and then I was in the bed and he was kissing me all over and my body felt all tingly. There was touching and licking and when he guided my throbbing cock toward his ass it was all I could do to get it inside without coming again. I came quickly, but then so did he, and we both collapsed into sleep.
He met me as I came out of the shower a few hours later, ambushing me with lips and hands and morning wood that begged for a sick day. His kiss was deep and soft and wet and I was surprised how arousing it was. “So we’re keeping the kissing part?” I asked a little breathlessly when he finally realized one of us still needed to breathe.
“I like the kissing part,” he answered, his hands pulling off the towel I’d used to cover my lower half.
“Got to go to work, Spike.” I left him holding the towel and went to get dressed.
“Stay home.”
“Can’t. Giles needs me, and its nice to be needed.”
“Maybe I need you.”
He said it softly, I almost didn’t hear him, but I did, or thought I did. I turned sharply, but he was sliding his naked body into the bed and pretending like nothing had happened, so I didn’t respond. That little shock of fear was back, but different. I dressed and he stayed quiet. Spike isn’t the quiet type. Quiet worried me. I wanted to say something, but what do you say to the dead guy in your bed when he goes all mushy?
I finished with the tie and turned to say something…anything, but he was already asleep again…or pretending really well. I chose not to press my luck and left for the brief walk to the building housing the new offices of the new Watcher’s Council where I had a tiny little office I used when I wasn’t off gallivanting around the world looking for Slayers.
I had plenty of time between settling disputes between teenage Slayers and prepping for my next trip to consider the night before. I thought it should disturb me more, but somehow it didn’t…except when I thought too much about Spike like he was before…which really wasn’t all that different from Spike as he was now…except that somehow I actually liked him, liked spending time with him…liked kissing—“
The knock on the door cut off that thought, which was a good thing, I suppose, being at work and everything. I looked up to see a delivery person holding a bowl of…flowers. “Xander Harris?”
“Yep.” I eyed the bowl suspiciously. Not flowers exactly, greens, leaves. Dark green stalks offset by long leaves and short leaves and brownish twigs. But, essentially, flowers. I tipped the guy and reached for the card. “Spike” was all it said. Not a sloppy thank you or sentiment, just a statement.
Another knock and I hid the card behind my back, blushing. “Oooh, flowers.”
“Buffy! I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Just. Only for a few days. Who are they from?”
What do I say? Your ex-vampire? No, that would be Angel with the whole not being a vampire anymore. Spike still was a vampire. Ex-what? He was never really her boyfriend. Lover maybe, ex-lover. Only it wasn’t love, not on her part anyway. What was it Anya would have called them? Orgasm friends. Buffy was staring at me. “A friend. And they aren’t flowers.” I said defensively.
“Who’s this friend?” Her eyes narrowed at me with that “I am your friend and you will tell me” look she sometimes gets.
“No one you care to know about. So, whatcha doing here?”
She pouted and picked at one of the leaves. “Angel…he asked for me. I had to come see him.”
“He’s awake?”
She nodded. “That’s good, right?”
She sighed. “I guess so. I mean…have you seen him?”
I nodded. Angel had survived his fight in LA, even earned his humanity, but the Powers That Be had odd senses of justice, and took away the demon when Angel needed him most. He’d spent most of the last year in a coma in a Watcher run hospital. It had been a while since I’d seen him, and I’d been out of town until two nights ago, hadn’t seen Giles or anyone but Spike. In fact, now I wondered if that was why Spike was here too.
Before I could say anything Dawn was bursting into the room screaming my name and nearly knocking the desk over in her eagerness to hug me. “Oh, flowers,” she said when she finally let go.
“They aren’t flowers,” I said, “more like, greens. Manly greens.” For some reason I was blushing.
“From who?”
“None of your business.” I said firmly, making sure I tucked the card in my back pocket. “We should do lunch. Two of my favorite ladies here to visit.”
Buffy yawned and stretched. “Maybe tomorrow when I’ve slept off some of this jetlag, Xander. I’m wiped.”
“Me too.” Dawn said, echoing the yawn and the stretch. “We just wanted to say hi before we went to our hotel.”
“Okay. Tomorrow then. I don’t leave for Vienna until Friday.” Vienna, a whole different headache. I walked them to the door, and started when I saw Spike in the hallway. Buffy and Spike exchanged pleasantries while I was torn between being happy to see him and being mortified someone might figure out what was happening…not that I really even knew what was happening. Then they were leaving and Spike was coming toward me and I wanted to kiss him and touch him. He shoved me into my office and closed the door, his hands on my chest, my thigh.
I kissed him. Me. I kissed him. It felt good, his lips parting for my tongue, his arms sliding around me. When I pulled away he smiled. “So the kissing thing is okay when you do it?”
I felt my face flush and I smiled. “Maybe I’m getting to like the kissing a little.”
“Good.”
The phone rang and I stepped away from him, circling the desk to answer it. “Thanks Catherine. No, leave them at the front desk, I’ll get them on the way out this afternoon.”
“Airline tickets.” I said as I hung up the receiver. Spike was examining the leaves of the not-flowers.
“Good, they came.”
“You sent me flowers, Spike.”
“They aren’t flowers. They’re greens, see this one is aspidistra, and ivy, and—“
“You are a big sissy man, aren’t you? Under all that bluster—“
He glared at me. “I happen to like aspidistra.” His hands were on his hips and his lips were tight. “This isn’t the right bowl though. Not what I ordered.”
It was my turn to glare. “You can’t be serious.”
“This one’s sea-green. I wanted emerald.”
“Spike, we’re talking about flowers.”
“It’s sea-green. I asked for emerald green.” He picked the bowl up and looked at it, then set it down and looked back at me. “What?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was so sweet and unexpected and at that moment I loved him. Okay, love is a strong word, but God-help me I did. “Nothing. It was very sweet. Thank you.” I leaned across the desk and kissed him, like any man would kiss the person who gave them a gift.
“Don’t get all mushy, it isn’t like I paid for them or anything.” He tossed something at me. “You left your wallet at home.”
I stared at him, then at the wallet and then the flowers. Somehow it seemed perfect that Spike had sent me flowers and used my credit card to pay for it. “Of course not. We don’t do mushy. We’re manly men.”
“Right.” He toyed with a leaf in the arrangement and looked at anything but me. “So, you going on a trip?”
“Vienna. ‘Nother Slayer to find and convince she needs to battle the forces of darkness.”
He nodded, and I would have said deep in thought if had been anyone other than Spike. “Gonna be home tonight?” he asked, finally looking up.
His blue eyes were bright and if I squinted I could almost see something like caring. I nodded. “Around 7.”
He leaned forward to kiss me and I met him halfway. This was new and different, but not unpleasant. I liked the softer side of Spike. Then he grabbed my shirt and hauled me closer to growl in my ear, “By 7:05 I’m going to be fucking your brains out.”
He let go and was gone before I could even register the hard on or the control the grin that made my face hurt. I liked that side of Spike too, I had to admit. I almost regretted the need for the trip. I got the feeling that Spike would be hanging around.
It was Friday morning, before they came again, the nightmares that had tormented me since Sunnydale. I woke well before the alarm, shaking and sweating and gasping for air. Arms tightened around me and I felt Spike’s lips on my spine. His hand caressed my arm and he pulled me just a little closer. “’S alright, Love. ‘S over now.” He whispered in my ear. “You’re safe with me.”
I turned so I could see him, his eyes closed, his face slack. I could remember a time when I would have staked him in a heartbeat. I kissed him and his eyes opened, their blue startling, even in the dark. “What?” he asked softly.
I smiled and tried to find the words. “I’m glad you’re here, Spike.” I said finally.
He sorta half smiled and kissed me. “Yeah, me too.” His eyes closed again and he drifted back to sleep. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about it too much, it was nice just to feel this comfortable, this happy.
It was requested by Claire/
mirasol with the following:Up to three things you would like included in your story: aspidistra, sea-green, "wax on, wax off"
Up to three things you would not like in the story: I'm easy, I don't mind. :)
Rating preference: R to NC-17 (but I'll take lower if the author isn't happy with this)
So...I tossed it around and what follows is what came out of it. It's my first Xander/Spike fic, and its also told in first person (which is new and different for my fan fic) from Xander's point of view. The particulars are:
Title: Two Can Play
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Contains sex. Male homosexual sex. Don't read if you don't like.
Spoilers: Through end of BtVS, takes place post series
Disclaimer: Not mine...never were...I take them out and play when I'm bored though...
Summary: Spike and Xander...with sex...and a happy ending....not to mention the other stuff, as requested!
*cross posted to AO3*
Two Can Play
The nightmares don’t come as much as they used to, but that only means that I don’t wake up gasping for air three or four times a night anymore. Most nights it’s only once, especially on nights he knocks on the door, when I invite him inside and we sit up in the dark. It was an odd little ritual, always the same…until it wasn’t anymore.
We had a few beers, even though it was nearly two in the morning. We talked about Buffy and business and the way he always showed up on my doorstop when most normal people were asleep, including me
“We ain’t never gonna be normal, chick pea. Best get used to that.”
I laughed, snorted really, cause it wasn’t like I’d ever considered myself normal. Okay, maybe once, but not since grade school and certainly never since I’d met Buffy. “Can you say, Duh?” I countered and tossed him another beer.
“Nice come back.”
“You woke me up, I’m not at my best.”
“Look alright to me.”
I smiled, though I hid it behind my beer. I’m not sure why we have to play this game every time, but we do. “Didn’t know you were looking, big guy.”
He moaned. “Don’t call me that. You call Angel that. I’m not Angel.”
I snorted again. “Again with the Duh.” I shifted so that my bare foot was touching his leg. “You’re much more blonde…and have that nifty accent.”
“Jolly right.” His hand connected with my foot, idly stroking it. It felt nice. So little of life felt like that. It seemed odd that this would, or that I would want it to…but I did. His eyes flashed my way before sliding over to the television in the corner. We had it on, but hadn’t been really watching it as we talked and drank. He made a face at it and shook his head. “Never did get that.”
“What?” I turned so that I could look with something other than an eye patch, instantly recognizing the scrawny kid on the TV.
“How is any of that practical? In a real fight, he’d be on the bloody end of a beating.”
I grinned. “Want me to show you?” He leaned back and rolled his head toward me, the dare in his eyes. We usually took longer getting to this part, but I stood and moved over him, straddling his legs and lowering myself until I sat on his knees. “First we have to take this off.” I pulled at the t-shirt, getting it loose from his jeans before he realized where I was going and helped. “Now, how did that go?”
I put my left palm onto his chest, just inside his right nipple. “Wax on.” I made soft circles with my palm over his skin, over his nipple which came up hard and fast. “Wax off.” I did the same to the other nipple with my right hand. His eyes closed and his body tensed as I repeated the process. I could feel him getting hard underneath me and rocked a little to press our groins together as I “waxed” him a third time, then stood up and plopped back onto the couch, reaching for my beer.
“Bloody hell.” His head snapped up and looked at me. “’S that all?”
I nodded and turned to watch the movie. “Bloody tease, are we?” I grinned. Usually we talked until we were both drunk, then we’d fuck each other, I’d get up and head off to work and he’d be gone when I came home. I wasn’t drunk yet, only buzzy and feeling feisty. “Two can play at that game.”
He was on me before his threat registered, his hand instantly wrapping around my partially hard cock through my pajamas and slowly pulling it up. His mouth on my ear growled “Up.” His hand got to the top and turned a little before he moved it back down with the accompanying growl, “Down.”
“Damn, Spike.” He let go after two passes, falling back into his corner of the couch and turning to the television as if he were alone in the room. I tried to breathe through it, will it away, but my cock was hard and ready for more. “That wasn’t fair.”
He raised his eyebrows at me and wiggled them, sticking out his tongue. When he was like that, playful and comfortable I could almost forget. I groaned in an effort to get some sympathy, but he wasn’t biting…not that I wanted the biting, or maybe I did, but didn’t know it…and well, that wasn’t the point.
No, the point was I was horny. I’d started a game and now I wanted to end it. I’d forgotten that Spike was good with the torment. Way better than I’d ever be. I tried the foot thing again, but he slapped it away. I huffed and let my own hand caress the hardness he’d created. Fine if he was going to be like that, maybe I’d just take care of it myself.
I scarcely closed my eye when his hands were on mine, pulling them away. “Now, now…good boys don’t play that way.” He pulled my hands up, over my head, his lips taking control of my mouth. He tasted like beer as his tongue rubbed over mine. Beer and Cheetos. That was the only contact. His lips and his hands. It was frustrating, and hot. When he let go I moaned. “Spike.”
“You started it mate,” he said, going to the fridge for another beer. “Shouldn’t ought to start a game you don’t want to play.”
At that moment I hated him. I’d hated him before, and for a long time. I mean, we are talking about Spike. But there’d been a lot of…I won’t say love. I don’t think anyone would say love. Like maybe. I’d grown to like him. And, the sex. Because well, hell it was…sex and good. Maybe not the first time. Then it was painful and awkward and we both lived in Denial Land for a long time after. But no, right then it was hate.
I hated the way he just walked into my life when he felt like it. I hated the way my body jumped when he spoke to me. I hated the fact that I didn’t hate him like I had when I was still in Sunnydale. I hated how his staring at me was making me hot enough to blow steam.
He took a swig of beer and stood there looking at me, bare chested and more than a little aroused himself if the half-unzipped fly was telling me the truth. His eyes were glittering with amusement, but had a hard edge to them. Something was changing between us, and I had a sneaking suspicion that if we saw this through both of us would have to rethink things.
I got up and moved past him into the kitchen. I wanted to find a way to gain an advantage, even if it would be short lived. My groin ached and I wanted nothing more than to jump on him and take this to the usual wordless sex-place that had become oddly familiar.
I cracked a beer, my eye sweeping the kitchen for something I could use. I’m not all that inventive, not like he is. I nearly gave in, when I spotted the fork on the counter. I picked it up, stealing a glance toward Spike. He had his back to me, watching the movie, standing in the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room/bedroom of the tiny apartment.
My first attempt was too tentative, the fork sliding almost unnoticed over the muscles in his back. The second earned a hiss and I followed it by rolling the cold surface of the beer bottle over the red streaks the fork raised.
“Wha’s that one called?” he asked as I did it again. He was pressing back into the fork, and I could see his jaw working.
I grinned, surprised I’d found something to tease him with. “Its my version of catching a fly in chopsticks.” I said, before he spun around. My beer went flying and he caught the hand with the fork in it. We struggled for a minute, a little thrill of fear racing through me, as he pushed me until my back was against the refrigerator. It didn’t escape me that he could snap me in two it he wanted to. Then, his knee was between my legs, pressing against my groin and the fear and arousal fed one another until I was panting.
“So, which one of us is the fly?” he asked, his hand slipping past the waistband of my pajama bottoms.
I swallowed hard. All witty comebacks and snarky comments were gone. The whole world could go with them if he just kept touching me that way. His fingers swept over my belly, just inside the top of my pants. His lips were on my neck, which was a new thing. I mean…hello, vampire…neck…but God! What his tongue was doing, then the teeth…not the vampire ones, just the normal manly ones, nipping at my skin while he ground his knee up against my cock and I nearly came right there in the kitchen.
“Spike.” I sagged against the fridge, breathing hard.
“Mmmm?” His attention shifted to my chest, using that tongue on my nipples…his hand circled my cock, squeezing and stroking it.
“Spike.”
“Stop talking Love. I’m trying to work here.”
I’m not sure when I lost what was my only article of clothing…or the ability to speak, but when Spike’s big hand on my belly pushed me against the fridge and his mouth surrounded my cock, they were both gone. I tried to hold off, but the sight of him on his knees was almost more than I could take. In all the times we’d done the deed, this was one deed we hadn’t done.
“Spi-“ I grabbed his head reflexively and he opened his throat, swallowing and sucking and….oh.my.god…was that humming? I bucked, but his hands held me up, held me in place as I came (right there in the kitchen)…and then after, as my heartbeat raced and my breathing followed it, and then as his lips released me and I was fairly certain I would be collapsed on the floor, if not for those hands.
Spike stood, or rather, slithered up my naked body, looking all proud of himself. His kiss was almost tender. Kiss. I pulled back, hitting my head on the fridge, then shaking it. When had we gone to the kissing place?
“What?” he asked, his face showing hurt and a flash of anger.
“We don’t kiss, Spike…do we?”
“Seemed a logical follow on, Love,” he responded, leaning in to kiss me again. “Didn’t seem to mind earlier.”
Earlier. On the couch. With the teasing. “Right.”
His body was pressed against mine, his fingers in my hair. My knees were like rubber, but it didn’t matter because he was there, holding me up. I was fairly certain that etiquette demanded that I treat him to a matching orgasm, but I didn’t know if I could. I mean, I hadn’t ever…not with Spike…not with anyone of the male persuasion. I pressed a hand to his cock and he groaned into my mouth. It took me a minute to unbutton him, especially with the distraction of Spike’s lips on my lips…neck…shoulders…
It filled my hand, already leaking pre-cum. I used my thumb to rub some of the fluid over the thick head and Spike leaned into me, moaning and growling in my ear. I stroked him for a minute, then exhaled. “Sit down.” I pushed him toward the kitchen chair, my only kitchen chair and he stumbled to a seat, his pants around his thighs, his cock sticking up at me.
I knelt in front of him slowly, my eyes on his cock, watching it move as he settled. I felt his touch on my cheek and looked up. “You don’t have to,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, but his eyes filled with need, lust…dark and glittery.
It only made me want it. Me, wanting this…whatever this was. I flashed my best Xander grin and yanked his jeans down to his ankles. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but we had turned some sort of corner here, and there was no going back.
I exhaled and watched his cock twitch as the moist air hit it. Encouraging. I had never been this close to it before, not like this. Usually it was…well different, less intimate. I decided to start by licking, licking isn’t hard, just the tip of my tongue, up the underside of his cock, from almost half way up to the tip. The salty pre-cum wasn’t as unpleasant as I’d imagined and the way Spike stiffened and hissed seemed like a good sign.
I tried the swirly thing Anya used to do and Spike squirmed, nearly coming off the chair. Okay, I’m not the only one who likes that. Good to know. Time for the next step. I started with just the head, closing my lips around it and sucking in just a little. His hand found my head and I took a little more into my mouth.
“Christ!” Spike thrust upward, pressing himself deeper into my mouth than I was prepared for. I tried not to panic, mostly succeeding, and did the swirly thing again. I shifted on my knees, moving upward for a better angle. His eyes were closed, head thrown back, his free hand holding on the table to keep from going over backwards. I slipped one hand between his legs and caressed his balls, then opened my mouth, taking him all in and sucking. He hissed and thrust, his hand holding my head as he slid in and out.
“Xander…God…bloody hell…” He pulled my head back and came, sputtering curses and roaring, his whole body shaking. The sight made me instantly hard again, that and his use of my actual name. Spike never called me by my name. Hell Spike hardly calls anyone by their names.
As the shaking stopped he pulled me up to kiss him, and I got all weak in the knees again. Then he was scooping me up like a little girl and then I was in the bed and he was kissing me all over and my body felt all tingly. There was touching and licking and when he guided my throbbing cock toward his ass it was all I could do to get it inside without coming again. I came quickly, but then so did he, and we both collapsed into sleep.
He met me as I came out of the shower a few hours later, ambushing me with lips and hands and morning wood that begged for a sick day. His kiss was deep and soft and wet and I was surprised how arousing it was. “So we’re keeping the kissing part?” I asked a little breathlessly when he finally realized one of us still needed to breathe.
“I like the kissing part,” he answered, his hands pulling off the towel I’d used to cover my lower half.
“Got to go to work, Spike.” I left him holding the towel and went to get dressed.
“Stay home.”
“Can’t. Giles needs me, and its nice to be needed.”
“Maybe I need you.”
He said it softly, I almost didn’t hear him, but I did, or thought I did. I turned sharply, but he was sliding his naked body into the bed and pretending like nothing had happened, so I didn’t respond. That little shock of fear was back, but different. I dressed and he stayed quiet. Spike isn’t the quiet type. Quiet worried me. I wanted to say something, but what do you say to the dead guy in your bed when he goes all mushy?
I finished with the tie and turned to say something…anything, but he was already asleep again…or pretending really well. I chose not to press my luck and left for the brief walk to the building housing the new offices of the new Watcher’s Council where I had a tiny little office I used when I wasn’t off gallivanting around the world looking for Slayers.
I had plenty of time between settling disputes between teenage Slayers and prepping for my next trip to consider the night before. I thought it should disturb me more, but somehow it didn’t…except when I thought too much about Spike like he was before…which really wasn’t all that different from Spike as he was now…except that somehow I actually liked him, liked spending time with him…liked kissing—“
The knock on the door cut off that thought, which was a good thing, I suppose, being at work and everything. I looked up to see a delivery person holding a bowl of…flowers. “Xander Harris?”
“Yep.” I eyed the bowl suspiciously. Not flowers exactly, greens, leaves. Dark green stalks offset by long leaves and short leaves and brownish twigs. But, essentially, flowers. I tipped the guy and reached for the card. “Spike” was all it said. Not a sloppy thank you or sentiment, just a statement.
Another knock and I hid the card behind my back, blushing. “Oooh, flowers.”
“Buffy! I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Just. Only for a few days. Who are they from?”
What do I say? Your ex-vampire? No, that would be Angel with the whole not being a vampire anymore. Spike still was a vampire. Ex-what? He was never really her boyfriend. Lover maybe, ex-lover. Only it wasn’t love, not on her part anyway. What was it Anya would have called them? Orgasm friends. Buffy was staring at me. “A friend. And they aren’t flowers.” I said defensively.
“Who’s this friend?” Her eyes narrowed at me with that “I am your friend and you will tell me” look she sometimes gets.
“No one you care to know about. So, whatcha doing here?”
She pouted and picked at one of the leaves. “Angel…he asked for me. I had to come see him.”
“He’s awake?”
She nodded. “That’s good, right?”
She sighed. “I guess so. I mean…have you seen him?”
I nodded. Angel had survived his fight in LA, even earned his humanity, but the Powers That Be had odd senses of justice, and took away the demon when Angel needed him most. He’d spent most of the last year in a coma in a Watcher run hospital. It had been a while since I’d seen him, and I’d been out of town until two nights ago, hadn’t seen Giles or anyone but Spike. In fact, now I wondered if that was why Spike was here too.
Before I could say anything Dawn was bursting into the room screaming my name and nearly knocking the desk over in her eagerness to hug me. “Oh, flowers,” she said when she finally let go.
“They aren’t flowers,” I said, “more like, greens. Manly greens.” For some reason I was blushing.
“From who?”
“None of your business.” I said firmly, making sure I tucked the card in my back pocket. “We should do lunch. Two of my favorite ladies here to visit.”
Buffy yawned and stretched. “Maybe tomorrow when I’ve slept off some of this jetlag, Xander. I’m wiped.”
“Me too.” Dawn said, echoing the yawn and the stretch. “We just wanted to say hi before we went to our hotel.”
“Okay. Tomorrow then. I don’t leave for Vienna until Friday.” Vienna, a whole different headache. I walked them to the door, and started when I saw Spike in the hallway. Buffy and Spike exchanged pleasantries while I was torn between being happy to see him and being mortified someone might figure out what was happening…not that I really even knew what was happening. Then they were leaving and Spike was coming toward me and I wanted to kiss him and touch him. He shoved me into my office and closed the door, his hands on my chest, my thigh.
I kissed him. Me. I kissed him. It felt good, his lips parting for my tongue, his arms sliding around me. When I pulled away he smiled. “So the kissing thing is okay when you do it?”
I felt my face flush and I smiled. “Maybe I’m getting to like the kissing a little.”
“Good.”
The phone rang and I stepped away from him, circling the desk to answer it. “Thanks Catherine. No, leave them at the front desk, I’ll get them on the way out this afternoon.”
“Airline tickets.” I said as I hung up the receiver. Spike was examining the leaves of the not-flowers.
“Good, they came.”
“You sent me flowers, Spike.”
“They aren’t flowers. They’re greens, see this one is aspidistra, and ivy, and—“
“You are a big sissy man, aren’t you? Under all that bluster—“
He glared at me. “I happen to like aspidistra.” His hands were on his hips and his lips were tight. “This isn’t the right bowl though. Not what I ordered.”
It was my turn to glare. “You can’t be serious.”
“This one’s sea-green. I wanted emerald.”
“Spike, we’re talking about flowers.”
“It’s sea-green. I asked for emerald green.” He picked the bowl up and looked at it, then set it down and looked back at me. “What?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was so sweet and unexpected and at that moment I loved him. Okay, love is a strong word, but God-help me I did. “Nothing. It was very sweet. Thank you.” I leaned across the desk and kissed him, like any man would kiss the person who gave them a gift.
“Don’t get all mushy, it isn’t like I paid for them or anything.” He tossed something at me. “You left your wallet at home.”
I stared at him, then at the wallet and then the flowers. Somehow it seemed perfect that Spike had sent me flowers and used my credit card to pay for it. “Of course not. We don’t do mushy. We’re manly men.”
“Right.” He toyed with a leaf in the arrangement and looked at anything but me. “So, you going on a trip?”
“Vienna. ‘Nother Slayer to find and convince she needs to battle the forces of darkness.”
He nodded, and I would have said deep in thought if had been anyone other than Spike. “Gonna be home tonight?” he asked, finally looking up.
His blue eyes were bright and if I squinted I could almost see something like caring. I nodded. “Around 7.”
He leaned forward to kiss me and I met him halfway. This was new and different, but not unpleasant. I liked the softer side of Spike. Then he grabbed my shirt and hauled me closer to growl in my ear, “By 7:05 I’m going to be fucking your brains out.”
He let go and was gone before I could even register the hard on or the control the grin that made my face hurt. I liked that side of Spike too, I had to admit. I almost regretted the need for the trip. I got the feeling that Spike would be hanging around.
It was Friday morning, before they came again, the nightmares that had tormented me since Sunnydale. I woke well before the alarm, shaking and sweating and gasping for air. Arms tightened around me and I felt Spike’s lips on my spine. His hand caressed my arm and he pulled me just a little closer. “’S alright, Love. ‘S over now.” He whispered in my ear. “You’re safe with me.”
I turned so I could see him, his eyes closed, his face slack. I could remember a time when I would have staked him in a heartbeat. I kissed him and his eyes opened, their blue startling, even in the dark. “What?” he asked softly.
I smiled and tried to find the words. “I’m glad you’re here, Spike.” I said finally.
He sorta half smiled and kissed me. “Yeah, me too.” His eyes closed again and he drifted back to sleep. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about it too much, it was nice just to feel this comfortable, this happy.