Not Asking for the World

co-written with Wesleysgirl

 

 

Bloody hell," Spike said as the room went totally dark, the unnoticed-until-it-wasn't-there hum of the refrigerator going silent. "Don't tell me you forgot to pay the electric bill."

Xander blinked, trying to make out some kind of shape in the darkness. The apartment was so silent his ears rung from lack of noise. "Spike? Where -- ?" He raised an arm, blundering forward until a hand clamped around his wrist holding him steady.

"Right where I was two second ago," Spike told him. "When the power went out?"

"Oh. And hey! I paid the electric bill!" Xander protested, mind finally catching up. "On time and everything. Early even!"

"Maybe they didn't get the check," Spike said, sounding weary. There was silence for a few seconds, then he added, "Or maybe it's the whole building. Stay here."

He left Xander standing alone.

There was the sound of the door opening on the other side of the room, then a brief silence. "Whole street's out," Spike's voice announced, and Xander could hear him shut the door again.

"Great. Um, could you not leave me in the middle of our living room, oh vampire mine who can see in the dark? Unless the power-outage somehow magically cleaned all our crap off the floor."

That's what the argument had been about, of course. Xander wasn't anything resembling a neat-freak, but he liked to be able to walk through his apartment without tripping over clothes and towels -- which at least he couldn't stub his toe on -- or the CD cases, books, and other assorted things Spike just tossed wherever he felt like.

They bickered about it, on and off. Sometimes Xander would clean. Other times Spike would. This time, however, it'd graduated beyond 'bickering' into 'actual fighting'. Well, fighting Spike and Xander style. Where just about everything was a prelude for making up.

"Hang on," Spike voice floated. "I'm coming back. Why you have to leave beer bottles on the floor. . ."

"Those aren't my beer bottles, buster. Not unless they have a shiny black and gold label on them, which I very much doubt Mr. I Have To Drink Guinness Or Nothing."

"Anything else isn't real beer," Spike's voice whispered in Xander's ear, making him shiver. "And you know it."

"What I know is that anything that has the word 'beer' on the label is real beer as far as I'm concerned," Xander said, turning and grabbing onto Spike with both hands before he could disappear into the darkness again. "Well, except for root beer."

"Careful where you put your hands," Spike grumbled, pushing Xander's right hand lower and away, Xander realized belatedly, from the deep bruising on his side that was a souvenir from their earlier patrolling.

"Sorry," Xander said. "You okay?"

Spike chuckled, the sound louder and somehow more menacing without the normal apartment-noises to compete with it. "I'm fine, pet. Now, if you wanted to go lower still. . ."

Xander made a face he knew Spike would see in the darkness. "Very funny." But his hand did wander south, careful not to press too hard in case he touched yet more bruising. "Do we have any human left? You need to heal -- and crap, you're blood! It's gonna spoil."

"Not that fast," Spike said, rubbing Xander's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry about it."

"I have to worry about it," Xander said. "Somebody has to."

"You think I don't worry about things?" Spike asked. "I do. Just not things that aren't worth it."

He bit off the litany that immediately started in his head. He didn't want to fight any more. He leaned forward carefully, not relaxing until he had his arms around Spike and his head on Spike's shoulder. "So what kind of things are worth it? That blood is pretty expensive. . ." Xander realized right away how that had sounded. "Sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Spike said, putting his own arms around Xander and holding him. "Some things are worth it. You are."

That made Xander feel even worse for talking without thinking first, and he ran his hand very lightly over Spike's side. "So are you. That's why I worry about stuff -- about your blood going bad, and about you getting hurt, and..."

"Can get hurt all I like -- or don't like," Spike said ruefully. "Still be here. I'd think that would be one of the benefits."

"Benefits?" Xander asked. It was so dark and silent that the conversation didn't seem real, somehow.

"Of being with a vampire," Spike said.

Xander didn't notice when they'd started swaying. The slow, back-and-forth rhythm helped keep him calm; the scent of Spike, leather and fabric-softener and the spicy ginger smell of the gel he used surrounded him.

"It's not a benefit," he said eventually. Memories of friends who'd died passed montage-style in front of his mind's eye, like the tributes they made for the recently deceased at the Oscars. "I'm grateful for it, but I'm supposed to be glad that you're hurting? That something chomped on you and you only barely stopped it?"

Spike's arms tightened. "My turn, now. I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. But I still hate it. Every time. . ." His fingers found the big bruise and touched it lightly. "Every time."

"I know." Spike inhaled and sighed, one hand coming up to tangle in Xander's hair. "Can't wrap me in cotton wool, love. You wouldn't like me that way, believe me."

Xander nodded and buried his face in Spike's neck. "Yeah. I know. But at least... try to be careful?"

The point of Spike's chin dug into his cheek. "I'll try. I always do."

"Try harder. That's what you told me, last time," Xander said, trying to lighten the mood.

Spike's arms tightened until it was almost painful, then relaxed. Mentioning Xander getting hurt always provoked that reaction, left over from when Xander had almost done more than 'hurt' himself.

"It's a little different with me, love," was all he said.

"That doesn't mean I like it more," Xander said. "You know, I seriously can't see a thing. Do we have any candles?"

Spike made a small sound and stepped back, but didn't completely let go of Xander. "Don't know. C'mere."

Together, they walked over to where Spike had left his duster, Xander counting it a minor miracle when he only stumbled once. Spike's lighter flared to life, Spike's expression serious in illumination.

"Go sit somewhere safe and I'll look around," Spike said.

Xander got to the reclining chair just as Spike cursed and started shaking burnt fingers. Pushing something -- a newspaper, by the swish-splat sound of it hitting the floor -- out of his way, Xander sat down cross-legged on the seat.

"I think we have candles in the bedroom."

"We do," Spike said. "But I'm not using those. Smell too strong. We've got normal ones, somewhere." The lighter flicked on a few moments later to show Spike bent over their junk drawer.

Xander cleared his throat. "Can I point out that bad smelling candles would be preferable to you holding that lighter long enough to catch fire?"

The lighter went out again, the faint glow it had been providing extinguishes. "Maybe what I prefer," Spike said, from somewhere in between where he'd been and where Xander was, "is the dark."

"Well, at least you can kind of see in it," Xander joked. "Um, you can, right?"

"I see you," Spike said, his voice low like a caress.

Xander's throat went dry. "Really? That's -- that's good. I mean, what with the fact that this is a basement apartment and there's no light at all when the power goes out."

"I see you," Spike repeated. Closer, now, and sending shivers through Xander's body. "I always see you."

And even though there wasn't enough light for a cat to see, suddenly Xander's eyes started working again. The apartment fell away in black nothing, leaving only the slow, steady steps as Spike moved closer.

"I see you," he repeated softly. "I see you, Spike."

Spike finished crossing the room slowly, not reaching out with his hands to touch Xander, but, instead, pressing his body against Xander's. "Feel me?" he asked.

Xander nodded, the movement making his lips brush against Spike's. "Yeah."

His hands rested against Spike's face, tracing the contours. Sharp cheek bones led to a soft, almost pouting mouth that lipped against him but didn't try to stop him. Nose, too big, slightly crooked. Jaw square and broad, leading up to a firm chin that jutted out too much. It was soft now, though, accepting Xander's touch.

Eyes. Lashes fluttered against his fingers, tickling them, but Xander never stopped. Stroking the lids gently he said, "Spike."

Body like silk, flowing like the steady rush of falling water, Spike settled himself in Xander's lap. Their lips touched again, but it wasn't a kiss. Not yet.

"This is kind of creepy," Xander whispered, lifting his chin slightly.

"Is it?" Spike didn't sound offended by the thought. He shifted his weight, ran a hand up Xander's arm. "But in a good way, yeah?"

"Yeah." Xander licked his lips, feeling them brush against Spike's again. "In a very good way. The best way."

Spike leaned forward. His lips were warm from the sultry air around them, moving gently against Xander's. "Good."

They kissed slowly. This was the part of making up that Xander always loved best: when he knew, with total certainty, that Spike was his.

"I still can't see a thing, though," he laughed into Spike's mouth, quiet so not to break the mood.

"Don't need to," Spike said, moving his mouth to Xander's neck and licking it, scraping with his teeth in a way that made Xander grab onto Spike's ass. "Don't need to see... just... feel."

Xander groaned as Spike's teeth bit at a thin fold of skin, threatening to break through. "I can do that. God, Spike..."

"Good boy," Spike said, and the shiver that went through Xander at those words was almost embarrassing. "Want to make you feel good."

"What if I want to make you feel good?"

Spike chuckled, transferring his attentions to the other side of Xander's neck. His hips rocked forward. Just a hint of a tease, right before he bit again. "Good boy."

Xander gasped, Spike's growl raising goosebumps. "How's th-that make me a g -- that?"

"Because you want to. Even when, " Spike paused to trace his tongue below Xander's ear, "it drives me out of my head. You always want to make me feel good. Makes you a very good boy, pet.

"And good boys get rewarded."

Xander groaned and Spike reached for his hand, guiding it to Spike's fly. He didn't need more of a hint than that, and he didn't need more than half a minute to get Spike's jeans undone and his hand inside. He felt Spike inhale, then heard the sound of Spike pushing his pants the rest of the way off before the vampire slid over onto the couch next to Xander and pushed him down onto the floor.

"Good," Spike murmured. "Now suck my cock 'til it's good and wet, and I'll give you what you want."

Xander leaned forward blindly, mouth open so it would be the first to come into contact with Spike's cock. Not the head, which was rubbed by his nose, but the shaft, hard and cool and perfect.

He kept his eyes open as he licked his way up to the tip, losing it twice and chasing it down. He couldn't see anything, but he knew Spike would see his eyes.

He heard Spike moving, his hands grabbed and placed over bony knees. "Like this?" he asked. He sucked hard at the head of Spike's cock, then released it. "Is that what you mean?"

Spike grabbed his neck. "Not sucking, is that? More like teasin'."

Xander did it again, sliding the hard knob over his tongue, tasting the faint tang of precome and smiling as Spike hissed and tightened the hand on the back of his neck. He loved knowing that he could make Spike feel like this.

"That's right," Spike said, as Xander's lips slid down his shaft. "Good and wet, and then I'm going to shag you senseless."

It was surreal. Spike was often quiet during blow-jobs, so Xander had learned to take his cues from things he saw or sensed. Without seeing the expressions Spike made, or the way the muscles in his arms tensed Xander felt even more isolated.

Veins pressed hard against his tongue as he took Spike in as deeply as he could. He had to work up to it, even now. Sucking on the thick shaft, Xander used his hold on Spike's knees to pull those wide-flung legs closer. He wanted to feel Spike around his ears.

Spike seemed to get what he wanted, pressing his thighs to either side of Xander's head, the bare skin cool. Xander sucked harder, remembering what Spike had said about getting him wet. His own cock ached inside his pants, and he could feel a damp spot on the fabric.

"That's it," Spike said, running fingers through Xander's hair. "You want me to fuck you, don't you."

Xander managed an affirmative noise without stopping what he was doing.

"Can't wait until I'm inside you. Filling."

Xander moaned again, sightless eyes falling shut as he slid up and down Spike's cock. The taste of Spike -- bitter and salt -- filled his mind.

He shivered when Spike's foot moved between his legs, finding the damp spot and circling it with a big toe.

"Hot for it already, hm? Stop." The hands in Xander's hair tightened to prevent him from darting forward for a last suck, holding him tightly without hurting. "Take off your jeans."

In the dark, it was both erotic and a little bit scary to pull away, to not be touching Spike, but Xander obeyed. He moved back far enough to undo his button and zipper, hands trembling with anticipation.

"Don't touch yourself," Spike said. "That's mine."

The way Spike's voice dropped, losing the affection for a low, chilling tone of pure control, always made him shiver. Now, in the dark, Xander was afraid he was going to shiver right out of his skin. As careful as he could be without eyes, Xander undid the zipper, lowering jeans and boxers at the same time. The fabric strained as he pulled it out and down, allowing his erection to spring up and slap his belly.

Spike's hands fluttered near his own, butterfly wings on a puff of smoke. "Stand."

Xander stood. Tried to breathe.

He didn't even realize that Spike had stood up too until he felt a cool hand on his hip, the faintest ghost of lips in front of his own, a phantom kiss that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and something in his gut clench into a tight fist.

"Here," Spike murmured, circling behind him and guiding him until he was on his knees on the couch, facing the back of it, his hand clenched on the rough fabric.

Xander twitched when he felt Spike's tongue tracing its way down his spine.

"I thought -- " The words slipped out, dying into nothing as Spike's tongue went lower.

"No talking," Spike said, amusement rich and heady and doing nothing to cover the iron in his voice. There were sounds of a body moving, settling, the slight creak Xander recognized as Spike's left knee. Kneeling? Spike was kneeling behind him. Spike was...

"Oh, god." Xander gulped, hands tightening over the back of the sofa as Spike shoved his torso forward.

Spike chuckled, letting his hand fly. It wasn't a hard smack, just a flare of heat and a lingering shiver, enough to remind Xander of the game they played. "I said no talking, pet. That means no talking."

Xander whimpered instead, because whimpering was allowed, right? Spike hadn't said he couldn't make any noise, just that he couldn't talk. Spike slapped his ass again, but Xander could tell that it wasn't because he didn't want the whimpering. So he whimpered again as Spike's other hand settled on his hip, holding him there.

"You want to be a good boy, Xan?" Spike purred. "Or a bad boy?"

Xander felt his chest heave, tight constriction underneath flushed skin that was just started to sweat. Good boys or bad boy. Good boy meant hearing it, feeling the rush of pleasure and only a hint of shame as Spike praised him.

And fucked him, because good boys got fucked, right? Just like bad boys. Except bad boys go so much more than just the slick, stretched feel of Spike pushing inside him. . .

An angel and a devil sat on his shoulder and both of them offered things he desperately wanted.

"Can I just be your boy?" Xander asked. "And you can decide if I'm good or bad?"

Spike squeezed his hip a little tighter, but Xander could feel the way Spike's lips stretched and curved against the skin of his back. "Xander," that shivery voice taunted, "you are my boy. Now answer the question."

"Good," Xander said, then immediately, "No! Bad." Since not being able to decide obviously made him bad already, he figured there was no point in keeping quiet, so he turned around and kissed Spike, hard.

Spike allowed the kiss for a moment, then shoved him. Hard. The arm of the sofa caught Xander along his back, hard pressure and rough fabric scraping over his skin. "Ow."

Spike tutted at him. "Good boy, bad boy, can't make up your mind, can you? Greedy boy."

"And we're only learning this now?" Xander said, laughter warring with fake surprise.

He felt the breeze only moments before Spike's hand landed against his mouth. It wasn't a slap. There wasn't even a tingle of pain, just the thump of fingers against his lips. "Bad boy," Spike proclaimed. "A very, very bad boy you are."

And shit, hearing Spike say it like that, in the dark where he couldn't see Spike's expression but sure as hell could imagine it, just made Xander harder and more eager. He bit at Spike's fingers, knowing that added a layer to the ways in which he was bad.

"What do bad boys get, Xander?" Spike asked, moving his hand away into the darkness where, Xander knew, it might do anything.

"Punished," Xander breathed.

"That's right, pet. Punished." Hands pushed Xander back against the sofa, Spike's presence large and looming without needing to see it. "Don't move," Spike ordered him.

And then left.

Blackness swallowed Xander, more profound without the occasional breath or glancing touch from Spike. The silence rang, so still that Xander felt his breathing accelerate. It felt like being buried alive.

He wasn't claustrophobic, he reminded himself. It was just dark. There was enough air, and Spike was ten feet away. Doing something. He'd come running if Xander was really upset, wouldn't he? Of course he would. Because Spike wasn't actually mad at him. Right?

The sudden clatter and Spike's low curse of frustration sent Xander eeping and trying to jump out of his skin -- and then just as abruptly relaxing. Laughing a little at himself, silently. Thoroughly grateful to Spike, who may or may not have done that on purpose, but if Xander mentioned it, Spike would claim credit regardless.

He'd just managed to push away the last of the tension when Spike was abruptly there, cool and solid in the darkness. Hands slid over Xander's legs, cupping his balls, tugging his cock and then -- "Hey!"

Spike squeezed the now-bound balls, rubbing over the leather that pinched the base of Xander's cock. "Bad boys don't get trusted," Spike said. "This way, I know you'll be good for me. Make certain of it."

Xander rocked his hips, pushing his cock forward needily. "I'll be good," he said hoarsely. "I promise."

"Pretty words," Spike said, running his hand down Xander's thigh instead of up it, ignoring Xander's cock. "But I've seen what kind of boy you are tonight. Not taking any chances."

He turned Xander around again, getting him back in that same position, on his knees on the couch with his hands gripping the back of it. Xander was grateful that in the dark he couldn't see his own cock bobbing humiliatingly in the air, but he felt his cheeks flush just as if he could see.

Spike's hands caressed his ass, rubbing, the tips of his thumbs dipping between and teasing Xander. "Could take you just like this," Spike murmured, like he was considering it.

"Yes, please?"

Spike rapped his knuckles against Xander's ass. "Want me to gag you too, is it?"

Shudder. Full-body, cock-dripping shudder. "No," Xander managed in a small voice. "I'll be good."

Spike's thumbs found the spot in the back of Xander's thighs that always tensed up and pressed, rubbing in tiny circles. "Could take you just like this," he continued. "Spread you open and fuck you raw. You wouldn't object, would you, love? Just lean forward and take it, like the good boy I know you can be."

The thought made Xander even harder, if that was possible. He knew that if Spike did that, it'd hurt like hell, but for some reason thinking about it made him want it. His cock throbbed painfully. "Yes," he whispered, knowing Spike would hear him. "I'm yours. Whatever you want."

"Hard to decide what I want," Spike said, tracing one finger down the small of Xander's back and between his ass cheeks. "What with you being so hot. All that blood in you."

Xander made a small sound of desperation.

"Could be I'm getting hungry."

Xander bit his lip hard, trying not to squeak as Spike slid his finger within Xander's body. The feel of cool, slick lube was a shock. One he didn't have time to appreciate as Spike began to roughly finger him open.

"Could be," Spike continued, leaning forward so his breath ghosted against Xander's neck. "I should stop. Leave you here. Go get myself a snack, hm?" A long tongue scraped him from shoulder to jaw.

Xander breathed in with a shiver as Spike circled his finger, encouraging taut, still-protesting muscle to relax. "Please," he said. That one word, that could just be agreeing with whatever Spike wanted, right? Even though what it really meant was more greedy.

"Trying to be good for me, aren't you?" Spike whispered, the purr in his voice making Xander's bound balls ache.

"Please." His voice sounded extra deep and harsh in the stillness. "I mean, yes. I am, trying so hard, please, Spike, I want to be good, I do."

Spike chuckled and calmly curled his hand over Xander's mouth. "Babbling, hm? Been a while since I made you do that."

Xander breathed in, the air warm and moist as it moved around Spike's palm and fingers, and nodded, because Spike would be able to feel that. He wanted to say more -- to beg, really. But he wouldn't. There wasn't anything else left to do, considering, so Xander stayed still, breathed, and tried not to move.

Spike had two fingers in his ass now, fucking him almost casually, and it was all Xander could do to keep from moaning. "That's my boy," Spike said approvingly, pushing his fingers deeper. "Stay still, be quiet. Behave."

Still? Still, he could do. His body tensed, locking down, so that he didn't even sway much as Spike's fingers drove him wild.

Quiet, though. That one was harder. Little noises bottled in his throat, stuck and huge against the sensitive esophagus. His tongue moved, rubbing the roof of his mouth and the back of his clenched teeth, trying to distract himself from opening his pursed lips. It wasn't working.

"I know," Spike said, soothing as if he wasn't the cause for Xander's shivers or the pants that almost whistled. "I know how hard it is for you to be good for me, pet. I like to see you try."

The praise was almost too much -- Xander felt his cock swell and clenched his jaw hard, trying not to come... and then he remembered that he couldn't come, not with the strap around his cock and the other ones binding his balls. He made a choked sound of relief, a whimper that he managed to cut off at the last second so that he hadn't really disobeyed.

"Careful," Spike sing-songed to him. "Might think you want to be a bad boy."

The way Spike said it meant that yes, Xander did want it. That toffee-rich voice melting through his bones, promising all kinds of punishments Xander ached for...

A deft twist of Spike's fingers left Xander shuddering, arching back into the thumb digging into the small of his back. Spike's hands were so big. Almost as big as his own.

"Is that it? Wanna change your mind? Be a bad boy?"

Xander's head flew, the ends of his hair sweat-damp and flicking stray drops on both of their skins. No. That would be for later. Now, he wanted to be good. He did.

He shook his head before remembering to say it out loud. "No," he gasped. "Want to be good for you." Want to be perfect for you. Want you to love me. There were so many things tied up into this, their relationship, but he couldn't think about them right now.

"What would a good boy say if I wanted to bite him?" Spike asked. Xander felt Spike's tongue flick over the skin at the small of his back.

Spike wouldn't bite him there. Would he?

"Yes," Xander whispered. "He'd say yes."

Spike licked him again, making a liquid sound that made him again grateful to the ring binding him -- but then nothing. The fingers inside him stilled, leaving Xander throbbing lightly in memory of each thrust. No breath chilled the trails of sweat down his back. No words or comforting touches to reassure him. Just nothing.

Xander inhaled sharply. Won't ask. Can't. I won't. I'll be good. "Sp -- "

Teeth! Slick enamel, startlingly cool, dug into the skin at the small of his back. Pain radiated from the bite, deep enough to leave marks, he thought, and Xander went to a white place where Spike said the kinds of things Spike never said to him -- and Xander could say them back.

He'd made a sound -- he must have -- but all Xander could hear when he could hear again was his harshly panted breathing. He could feel Spike's tongue moving over the bite mark, which felt hot, radiating little tendrils of pain, but he couldn't tell if he was bleeding.

"And what would a good boy say," Spike asked, running one finger along the back of Xander's thigh, "if I wanted to fuck him?"

Xander's world went rainbow-swirly, like good sherbet. He was only distantly aware of the need staved off by straps of leather, slowly turning into pain. None of it mattered.

"Please," he begged.

Spike leaned in closer. "What would a good boy say?"

Xander thought wildly, trying to get his brain to work, trying to figure out what it was Spike wanted. "Y-yes," he stuttered. "A good boy would say yes. Whatever you want."

"So if what I want's to walk off and leave you like this?"

Closing his eyes, which didn't actually make it any easier to concentrate because it was pitch black either way, Xander said shakily, "Yes. Whatever you want."

Spike's fingers immediately slid out of his body. Xander moaned, low in his throat, shivering as the intense heat of lust gave way to colder uncertainty. There was nothing but silent darkness around him.

"Whatever you want," he repeated.

"Good boy."

Something blunt and insistent pressed against his body. This wasn't asking for permission, the way Spike usually did. This was taking. Thrusting inside without warning, stretching Xander father than Spike's fingers had. Working his cock as deep as it could go.

Xander didn't gasp -- he couldn't. It was like all the air was forced from his lungs, like Spike's cock was forcing everything out of him and leaving nothing but Spike behind. He couldn't breathe, couldn't make a sound. All he could do was clutch at the couch and feel.

Spike didn't give him any time to adjust. Fully seated inside Xander's body, he immediately pulled back until only the tip remained -- then rammed home again. It wasn't mutual pleasure. Love-making. This was fucking. Raw, intense, and so good Xander could feel more than just sweat leaking down the sides of his face.

"And what do good boys say," Spike asked. He sounded breathless, like he was as worked up as Xander was. Which is a good thing. "When they finally get fucked?"

"Yes," Xander responded after drawing a desperate lungful of air. "Yes, Spike. Don't stop. Please. More." One of those things had to be right.

Spike was falling into a rhythm. (It was just Spike's rhythm, because Xander wasn't moving, could hardly be said to be participating. He was being done to. That was all.) He'd pull out -- sometimes all the way, sometimes just most of the way -- pause, and then jerk his hips forward again, burying himself all the way into Xander's body.

Xander couldn't help but moan. Each thrust was somehow more intense than the last, Spike's cock scraping Xander's insides like an itch getting scratched raw, painful but oh so good.

"You sound so good."

Xander groaned in response. The muscles in his thighs and lower back trembled, aching from holding this position for so long. He ignored that. Feeling Spike take him like this, hitting the prostate every time, roughly pushing past the sensitive skin, took all his concentration.

"You smell so good, pet."

Xander knew that he must smell like salt, sweat and probably blood, but it made sense that Spike would like those smells. Every thrust felt like sandpaper and his skin was on fire, burning with need. He whimpered.

"Shh. Quiet like a good boy," Spike reminded him, voice tight with control even as his hips stuttered, losing their rhythm. "My... good..." And then Spike was coming, growling and fucking him fast and hard, and Xander could feel cool wet soothing his seared skin.

Listening to Spike lose control always drove Xander crazy and this was no different. Each gasp and involuntary jerk sent a bolt of pure need to Xander's cock, straining against the ring surrounding it. He wanted to come. He wanted to share.

Forehead pressed between Xander's shoulder blades, Spike finally caught his breath and chuckled. "My good boy," he repeated, voice husky with pleasure, his hands slipping and sliding down to Xander's groin. Cupping his cock, his balls, massaging both in a manner that was probably supposed to feel good.

It didn't. It hurt, what with the straps and Xander being hard for so long, and he whimpered desperately -- but didn't try to move away, no, because he was a good boy.

Spike either didn't get it, or didn't care. He slicked his hands painfully over skin that felt like it might split open any second. Gentle. Slow. A feather-light touch that was quickly driving Xander insane, to the point where he didn't care that he was hyperventilating and shivering. All of his focus was on his throbbing cock, and what Spike was doing to it.

"I can smell it, love." Spike's words bounced off the skin of his back, his hands continuing their torturous path. "Driving you mad, isn't it? The pain of it."

The wonder in Spike's voice should have frightened him, probably. Spike shouldn't be glad that he was causing Xander pain, and Xander shouldn't be happy for Spike, in return. He was, though, arching back the tiniest amount until he could feel Spike's nose against his spine.

"Quiet and still for me, Xan. Being such a good boy." Deft fingers played over the soft skin of his sac, spider-webs of pain making him gasp. "When I tell you, pet, you'll be allowed to move, allowed to make whatever noises you want."

Xander nodded, struggling to make neck muscles move when his whole body felt frozen.

"Good boy." Spike abruptly released the ring, taking the half second of silence that followed to say, "Come."

He screamed. He howled into his too-silent apartment, head back, body convulsing as orgasm took him so fiercely it hurt. He rode out pulse after pulse, oblivious to Spike moving his body, stretching him out and murmuring how good he was. All he knew was that final, painful moment of release.

It was a long time before Xander was aware enough to realize that he was curled up half in Spike's lap, with Spike rubbing a hand across his chest, and that the lights were back on. When had that happened? "Come on, pet. Xander?"

He blinked painfully. Everything ached. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Good." Spike's hand was soothing. "Got a bit carried away, maybe?"

Xander pressed his face against Spike's chest. It hurt to breathe. "No. We didn't."

Spike's hands never stopped, but Xander felt the slight hitch. "Gonna have bruises for a while."

"I've had bruises from sex before," Xander said evenly.

"Still." Spike shifted underneath him, bending forward and nuzzling Xander's hair. It felt nice. "You need anything?"

Xander made a little negative sound, but inside, he was stunned. He didn't think Spike had ever asked him that before - well, unless you counted when Spike was on his way out the door to buy cigarettes at the 7-Eleven on the corner. And that didn't count.

"Good." Spike's arms were strong and heavy around him but his hands were light. Gentle, delicate touches made Xander shiver occasionally, the goose-bumped skin immediately smoothed with a firmer hand. "That's good."

Xander never wanted to leave. This was as close to actually loving they had ever been. "Spike? Are you okay?"

"Not me that's got bite marks in his flesh, pet."

"Yeah, but bite marks wouldn't bother you, anyway. Do you need anything?"

"What could I need?" Spike asked, like that was a real answer.

It took effort, but Xander moved, twisting in Spike's arms until he was facing the back of the couch and could see Spike's face. "You were talking about blood, before."

Spike shook his head. "That was just playing."

"Was it?" Xander met Spike's gaze squarely, trying to read something in the black-flecked depths. "I don't want you to need anything."

Spike smiled, hands ghosting over Xander's cheeks. "I have everything I've needed."

Xander smiled back automatically but wasn't reassured. "Truly? I mean, if you want something. . ."

The kiss was soft, just the merest brush of lips against lips.

"Want you to stop talking and relax," Spike whispered against his mouth.

Xander smiled. "Okay." He shifted again, trying to get comfortable, and Spike made an exasperated sound, resettled both of them so that there weren't elbows poking into sensitive places, and pulled the blanket down off the back of the couch over them.

"There," Spike said.

It was nice, lying there warm and comfortably sore. Spike's body was hard against his and the bite on his back ached faintly. Xander's heart slowed, his breathing evening out, as too-heavy eyelids closed, the lashes brushing against Spike's skin. Sleep wrapped downy arms around him.

"You'd tell me, right?" Xander mumbled. "If there was something you needed?"

"Mm," Spike said softly. "Don't need anything I haven't got, love." His hand stopped moving over Xander's chest, stopped right over his heart and rested there.

The words didn't sound forced or masking. Mostly, they sounded sleepy. Xander smiled, leaning forward to kiss Spike just as lightly as Spike'd kissed him. "That's good."

"Yeah, it is," Spike agreed, running gentle fingers through the hair at the nape of Xander's neck. "You sure you're okay?"

Asking twice? Xander caught Spike's eyes, holding them. "I am. Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

Spike held his gaze, a hint of bluster among the blue -- but he dropped his eyes first. "That was a bit rougher than we usually play. Just want to make sure I didn't hurt you."

"I thought you liked hurting me," Xander said. "No, actually, I know you do."

Spike got really still. "That's just playing," he said quietly.

Xander bit down on his automatic query of 'so what's this?'. Spike was worried, genuinely worried, or he wouldn't be so. . . withdrawn. That's what he was, withdrawn.

Xander didn't like that at all. "You didn't hurt me," he said firmly. "I wanted it."

"Doesn't mean it didn't hurt you," Spike shot back. "People want all kinds of things that're bad for 'em."

"This isn't bad for me," Xander said, sitting up, most of his aches and pains forgotten in light of the conversation. "You... aren't bad for me. You don't seriously think you are?" The thought that Spike might, that he might end this... thing, whatever it was, they had going, was enough to make Xander's stomach tighten in fear.

"I don't want to be," Spike said seriously, meeting Xander's eyes.

"You don't want to be thinking you are, or you don't want to be bad for me?" Xander shook his head with a tight grin. "Never mind. Spike. You aren't bad for me. You're good for me. Who took care of me when the lights went out, huh? I'd have fallen on my face for sure. You know what a clumsy oaf I am."

Spike frowned slightly, sitting up as well. "I called you that enough that you started believing it?"

"What? No! Spike, I am clumsy. I was long before you started mocking me for it."

"But I did mock you."

Sighing, Xander pushed away the need to rub his eyes. "Spike, everyone mocks me for that. Even Willow, who's as clumsy as I am. And anyway, that's not the point. What do you do that's bad for me? And if you say 'have rough sex', I'm going to have to hurt you."

"Promise?" Spike asked, with a little smirk. But whatever humor was evident faded quickly. "It's just... hard for me to know where the line is. Think that I might cross it without knowing it, sometimes."

"I'd tell you if you crossed it," Xander said reassuringly. Actually, he wasn't totally sure that he would, but that wasn't the point either. He wanted Spike to be okay with this. Spike had to be okay with this, because Xander needed it. Needed him.

Spike gave him an exasperated look. "No, you won't. And don't give me wounded eyes for that. You won't, Xander. That's half the problem."

Xander forced himself to think before speaking. It was a new thing he was trying, with only limited success. "So, you're saying that I don't know what I want? Or that I can't tell when something's bad for me?"

"I'm saying I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be wrong for you. And yeah. Sometimes you don't know when something's bad for you. That ice cream from a few nights back, for one." But Spike wasn't grinning when he said it.

This conversation was getting way more serious than Xander wanted it to be. "Are you trying to get me to say that it's okay if we stop this? The you and me thing? Because I won't."

Spike's frown deepened. "But that's what you said."

"What is?" Xander asked.

"That first night. You said we could stop any time. That it didn't mean anything." Spike actually sounded sad about it.

"Because I thought you didn't really want me! And that was four months ago! Did you really think I would've stayed that long if it meant nothing?"

Spike's blank expression said yes.

Xander honestly didn't know if he was angry or upset or neither. Talking about this hurt, twisting belly into sailor's knots. Really hurt. "I'm sorry."

"Got nothing to be sorry for," Spike said, still with that blank look on his face. "You were up front with me right from the start."

"I didn't know what I was talking about," Xander said. "I was stupid and scared and -- "

"You're not," Spike said, putting two fingers over Xander's mouth to stop him. Apparently, Xander talking crap about himself had jolted Spike back into looking at least a little bit more normal.

"If I make you feel like this, then yeah, Spike, I am stupid. Don't you know that I. . ." The words trailed off. They always trailed off, whenever Xander thought he might be able to. To distract himself, Xander started kissing the fingers still pressed to his lips. They tasted like him and Spike mixed together, salty and bitter and perfect.

Spike's other hand came up, carding the hair over his left ear. "You didn't do anything wrong, Xander."

But he had. Oh, he had, if Spike had that twisted look in his eye. The one that made him think of kittens trapped in a box.

"You never gave me any reason to think this was anything more than it was. Is." Spike's mouth twisted to match that look. "It's my fault. Well, not fault so much as... well. Couldn't help it. S'the way I'm built."

Double shot. How did Spike do that, slamming into him with the force of a sledgehammer? Good, because he thought Spike was probably saying. . . something he really wanted to hear.

But bad. Oh, so bad, if Spike couldn't find anything in Xander other than appreciation of his fuck buddy. Fuck buddy. The words twisted on his tongue, saliva pooling as if it could wash away the awful taste.

Spike still showed that little lostling look in his eyes, too. Okay. Time for Xander to do the manly thing and. . . be a man. Pushing Spike's fingers away, he leaned forward for a kiss. "I'm sorry," he said, so quiet it was barely audible over the returning hum of electrical life in the apartment. "I thought -- I'm a guy, Spike. We don't do the touchy feely stuff. I thought you understood. I'm sorry I didn't make it plain."

Confused blue eyes met his. "Make what plain?" Spike asked. It was the kind of thing that would usually have a 'pet' tacked onto the end of it, and the way Xander missed it made it pretty clear just how bad he had it.

Another kiss. Xander wished he could show Spike this way. It wasn't that he was afraid to say it, really. But saying it was hard. It'd always been hard, especially since he'd been so certain that Spike would laugh at him. So letting the softness of his lips show the emotion instead? Yeah, that'd be a good way to go.

Xander slowed the kisses, but didn't pull away. He needed to touch, to reassure himself that Spike wasn't going to run. "I love you."

The words were barely loud enough for Xander to hear. He closed his eyes tightly, afraid to see the result. Or even if Spike had heard.

But both of Spike's hands were on his face, lifting it, and he didn't have any choice but to open his eyes again. Spike's were wide, clear, and full of wonder, so much that Xander was glad he'd opened his because he wouldn't have wanted to miss seeing it. "You what?" Spike said hoarsely.

It was easier the second time. "I love you," Xander said.

"You can't." Spike didn't sound particularly convincing.

"Er. I can't?" Of all the reactions he'd expected or dreaded, that wasn't one he'd considered. "I can't love you?"

Spike shook his head. "You're just using me," he said. His voice was totally level, as if the words were inescapably logical. He didn't sound upset about it, either. That was the worst part. "You're just -- "

Xander tried to grin. "You think I'm using you." He couldn't make it a question. It hurt too much.

"It's the only reasonable explanation," Spike said, like he spent his days figuring out what explanations for things were reasonable. "Because there's no way you could... that other thing."

He couldn't even say it. That made Xander feel stubborn. "I do. I love you. You can say that I can't and I don't as much as you want, but that won't change anything."

"But, I'm -- "

Xander didn't want to hear all the reasons. He'd thought of them all, already, and he didn't want to discover things he hadn't known Spike was worrying over. Covering Spike's mouth with his hand, Xander let his eyebrow go up -- a trick he'd learned after living with Spike for so long. "Is it a bad thing? Me being in love with you?"

Amazingly, Spike didn't shove Xander's hand away. He shook his head. Just slightly, but it was an answer.

"Then why are you fighting it so hard?" Xander asked, moving his hand enough so that Spike could talk.

"I don't know," Spike said quietly, his breath cool against Xander's palm.

Xander cupped Spike's jaw, running his thumb over a soft lower lip. "I'm not asking for anything back," he said, realizing it was true as he said it. He wasn't. If Spike didn't actually love him, despite what he'd hinted, it'd hurt -- but it was okay. All that mattered was Spike understanding that he was loved.

"Don't really have anything to give you, do I?" Spike said. He leaned forward and kissed Xander; it was a kiss with so much emotion packed into it that when he pulled back again Xander was without words.

He blinked. "I... you..."

"Shh, pet," Spike said. "Yeah, I love you. Can't help it."

Sun bursts. All he saw were sun bursts. "I'm not sure I like you not being able to help loving me," he murmured. "Shouldn't it be something you want to do?"

Spike made an obvious effort to smile, but it looked kind of sad. "Hasn't worked out so well for me in the past."

"This time could be different," Xander said.

"It's always different," he said.

"Hey." A little pressure on Spike's jaw forced him to look up. No need to ask what Spike was talking about. "I don't want anyone else. I don't love anyone else but you."

A bunch of different emotions fought their way to the surface in Spike's eyes, and something that might have been called grateful seemed to emerge victorious. "You ought to be with someone else," Spike said. "Someone who can give you everything."

"You give me everything," Xander said, not letting go of Spike's chin. "And again, I don't want anyone else. I want you."

"I give you the dark, Xander." A hint of Spike's old accent, the one that made him think bad thoughts about Giles, colored his words. "I give you the night. I give you pain, and death, and--"

Yeah, no way was he listening to that. Another kiss, this one more forceful. He kissed and kissed until Spike started responding, then kissed some more. He didn't care about that. He was friends and partners with a Slayer. You didn't get much more dark, night, pain, and death than that. It had nothing to do with Spike, though, and somehow Xander would convince him of that.

"I thought you gave up poetry," he teased when he finally let Spike go. "That sounded pretty poetic to me. Also, completely wrong."

"Is it?" Spike asked. "Is it wrong?" It sounded like he wanted to be convinced.

"Yes, it's wrong," Xander said. "I don't think of any of those things when I think of you. I mean, I know they're there, but they aren't the important things."

"What's important?" Spike asked.

"What's important is that we laugh at the same stupid jokes," Xander said, tracing Spike's cheekbone. "And that you know what I like on pizza, and I know that you hate American beer."

"Everybody should hate American beer."

Smiling, Xander let his fingers wander over Spike's eyebrows. "I'm never scared, when I'm with you."

Spike's expression softened. "This is where I'm supposed to remind you you should be scared."

Which, Xander noted, wasn't the same as Spike actually reminding him. "Maybe I would be scared, if I didn't trust you. But I do."

Spike smiled. "That's a nice thing to say, love. You can, you know. I'd never let anything happen to you." His hand slid down to the bite mark on Xander's back and rubbed over it gently.

"You'd never let anything bad happen to me," Xander clarified. He arched slightly into the pleasure-pain of Spike touching him right there. "Because otherwise nothing would happen at all, and that would be boring."

Spike's laugh was such a relief to hear. So was the almost hesitant smile, as if he still wasn't quite certain but was running out of excuses. "Not sure this qualifies as a good thing, pet."

Xander arched again, letting out a wanton moan as Spike traced over a tooth mark. "Really? Cause I am."

Spike grabbed the back of Xander's neck and pulled him down for a kiss that was surprisingly gentle. Maybe the gentlest one they'd ever shared. His lips were soft, careful, like Xander was something infinitely precious.

Xander made a little sound like a question, and Spike let him go. "You think we could move this to the bedroom?"

"That what you want, pet?" Spike asked. They'd had sex in the bedroom, plenty of times, but this was different, somehow, and they both knew it.

Xander wrapped his arms around Spike's neck. "Yeah."

Spike slid onto his feet, pulling Xander along with him. No, not pulling. Easing. Gentling. Almost carrying, shouldering Xander's weight so all Xander had to do was shift where Spike moved him to and try not to get in the way.

Sex in the bedroom was usually a wild, tumbling affair. Clothes flying, bedclothes tangled around sweaty, wide-flung limbs. Not now. Now, Xander was placed down so gently he didn't even bounce. Now, Spike crawled up beside him and began giving him more of those butterfly-soft kisses. The ones that made him believe that he loved Spike.

Spike's hands rubbed over his skin, soothing his aches away. "What do you want, love?" Spike murmured.

Xander gave Spike's shoulder a slow, lazy lick, just tasting him. "You want to know what I really want?"

"Yeah," Spike said.

"I want you to stay," Xander said.

Tiny, tiny quirk of the scarred brow. "Do stay here, love."

Xander shook his head, leaning forward to rest his lips against Spike's. "No. I mean stay."

"Never thought about doing anything else," Spike said. "Well, unless you count going on the occasional holiday, but I always figured you'd come along, too."

The idea that Spike had been thinking about all this, had been assuming that they might be together for a long time, was incredible. "Say it again," Xander begged.

"Say what?" Spike asked, brushing Xander's hair back out of his face. "That I love you? I do. I love you, pet."

"No. I mean," Xander shook his head, "yes, good, say that. Say that lots of times. But say the other thing, too."

Spike's expression softened. His mouth pursed before his hand tightened in Xander's hair, bringing their lips together again. "That I'm not leaving you? Thought that was my line," Spike said.

Xander relaxed, letting his body mold itself to Spike's. "I'm not leaving you," he said. "Not ever. I love you."

Licking at his mouth, Spike murmured, "Love you." His lips made Xander feel warm and languid. "Not going anywhere, not unless you tell me to go."

"Pretty sure that'll be never." Xander slid his arms around Spike, pulling him so the slighter man was lying on top him. "Never ever." His arms tightened, to the point where a human would be uncomfortable.

Spike just made a deep, rumbling noise that wasn't a hum and wasn't a purr, and was the sweetest music Xander had ever heard. "Never pegged you for a possessive one, really."

"Well, you figured wrong," Xander said, sliding one hand down to Spike's ass and rubbing over the smooth skin there. "I'm actually very possessive. Of you, anyway."

Spike curled his fingers into Xander's hair and used the grip to tilt his head back, licking a wet line along Xander's exposed throat. "No complaints here."

"Good. Cause I'm not sure I'd care if you did." Xander used his legs to spread Spike's wider, then looped his ankles over them. He had Spike mostly pinned that way, ass totally exposed for whatever Xander wanted.

But what he wanted, mostly, was to grip both curved, hard buttocks and hold Spike close to him.

"Xander..." Spike said, the word hardly more than a whisper as Xander's hands found where they wanted to be.

"Yeah?" Xander whispered back.

A flash of blue warned him. "Think we can buy a bigger tv? Now that I'm here for good'n all."

"Sure," Xander said. "Whatever you want."

Spike chuckled. Brushing Xander's hair off his forehead, he leaned down to place tiny, gentle kisses over Xander's eyes. "Gonna probably turn into a soppy sod, now."

"And this would be different how?"

"Hey," Spike chided. "Don't think I'm gonna put up with disrespect just because you got me to admit my feelings for you." It was obvious that he was teasing.

"Again, I point out that I've always been disrespectful to authority figures. It's just in my nature." It wasn't really disrespect, more just his weird sense of humor, but otherwise it was true.

"That what I am?" Spike asked, amused. "An authority figure?"

Xander's mind flashed back to that suspended, timeless moment when there was nothing but Spike's words, Spike's touch.

"Yeah," he said honestly. "When you want to be."

"Sometimes," Spike said, drawing the word out, "I want to be."

It was easy enough to read between the lines there. And sometimes I don't. Xander liked the thought of that.

"I've always wondered what you'd look like with a collar," Xander mused. Then laughed, struggling lightly as Spike closed soft lips and gentle, blunted teeth into his neck.

"Collar me?" Spike asked when a nice sized mark hard appeared. "Not that you'd need to. Pretty much already collared, aren't I?"

Another hidden message, wrapped up in a thoroughly self-satisfied tone: And I don't mind a bit.

"Are you?" Xander asked, looking up at him.

Spike nodded slowly. "Yeah. 'Fraid so, pet."

Xander traced width-wise along Spike's neck. Muscles jumped and corded under his touch. "Don't see anything."

"No," Spike said, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Could be." It sounded like an invitation.

Xander stretched both hands, the webby part between forefinger and thumb closing around Spike's neck. His fingers laced together against the nape while his thumbs gently stroked Spike's Adam's apple.

"You'd let me?" How'd his voice get so equally hoarse?

Spike didn't let his gaze waver. "Do you one better. I'd want it."

Before he could let himself get freaked out about the idea and change his mind, Xander lifted Spike and flipped them so that he was on top, pressing Spike down into the mattress. "Are you sure?" he asked, tightening his hand on Spike's hip, thumb digging into the bone, stretching the skin thin and white.

Spike arched, long lashes fluttering against his cheek. "Not really one for second guessing, love."

Xander pressed down even harder, wringing a quiet groan from parted lips. "And regrets?"

That opened Spike's eyes fully. Very slowly, very deliberately, Spike lifted his arms above his head and crossed his wrists. "Won't regret this," he murmured.

Xander shuddered, because even without the words, the tone said, I trust you. And for Spike, that always meant love.

He leaned in and brushed his lips over Spike's throat, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin there. Spike trembled underneath him, letting his head fall to the side. They were both getting hard again, and it almost hurt, the nerves along Xander's dick protesting even as it swelled with hot blood, rubbing against Spike's inner thigh where the skin was as soft as a girl's.

Xander traced a vein just under the surface of Spike's neck with his tongue, leaving a damp trail. "You taste good," he said softly. "You know, I've wondered? What blood tastes like. Your blood, I mean."

Spike's cock shoved against Xander's belly, so instantly, insistently hard that it must've hurt. Wide, staring blue eyes looked up at him, lust and love mixed together in the most perfect whole. Too bad concern was there, as well.

"Xan, love." Spike's hands didn't come down, but the fingers twitched. "That can be dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" He nipped underneath Spike's jaw, forcing Spike to turn his head back in that diffident position. "Dangerous, like addicting?"

"If you take too much, yeah. It'll make you wired, too. Really wired. Higher than any drug you've ever been on."

Since the only drug Xander had been on, other than pain killers, was pot, he didn't doubt that statement. He also didn't much care. Grinding his cock so that the head rubbed Spike's balls, he placed a punishing nip right where Spike's pulse did not beat. "Are you telling me no, Spike?"

He'd tried to reach the same kind of menacing Spike used so effortlessly. Spike's full body shudder was validating and arousing.

"No," Spike said, smoker-rough. "God, no."

"Good." Xander found another likely spot and bit down again, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to elicit another of those shudders from Spike, along with a shallow gasp.

He thrust forward lazily, then slid down and bit Spike's collarbone, scraping the skin there with his teeth until it stuttered apart. Spike groaned. Two tiny beads of blood welled up in line, and Xander slid his tongue over them. There was hardly enough to taste, but even the faint hint of salt was heady.

"I want to fuck you," Xander said, murmuring the words just above Spike's nipple.

Spike groaned, hips rising and legs spreading in instant agreement. "Th-thought you were gonna bite me?"

Xander laughed, dropping down that final inch. Sucking lazily, he let his fingers wander over Spike's skin. He wasn't gentle, exploring as he usually did. This was a callous perusal, hunting Spike's most sensitive places to pinch and twist. "I can't do both?"

Another one, this one approaching desperation. It sounded so good. Spike's hips worked instinctively, rubbing precome in sticky trails all over Xander's belly. "Do anything you want, Xander."

"Anything?" Xander said. In that mood, in that moment, he liked the sound of it. He felt strong. Fiercely, he bit down on Spike's nipple, breaking the skin. Spike's cry echoed in the room, Spike bucking underneath him as another slight taste of blood washed over his tongue.

Spike's hands were still above his head, and when Xander glanced up at his face, the vampire's lips were parted as he panted and writhed. "Anything you want," Spike said again.

Xander lapped over the shallow bite marks, finding each trace of blood until the wounds clotted. The taste lingered on his tongue, salty and coppery, like a new penny, and. . .

His heart started beating faster as his body started to zing. There was no other word for it. His body was zinging, full of an energy and aggressiveness he'd never felt before. It wasn't overpowering him, the way he guessed Spike was afraid of. It wasn't controlling him or forcing him to do things he didn't already want to do.

It was just there. Providing a level of energy and strength and need overtop of what he already had. Peppy and fizzy, like carbonation delivered intravenously.

Xander slithered so that he was lying over Spike's side. His cock ground into the harsh dip and curve of Spike's hip bone, while his hand travelled down to Spike's cock. And then past it, to heavy balls that rolled over his palm. He started squeezing. Not hard, not yet. But getting harder.

Spike was a weird combination of limp and tense under him, groaning softly as he let Xander use him, let Xander thrust against him with a force that was probably going to leave Xander bruised and sore tomorrow. His cock was flushed and leaking next to Xander's, his hips lifting and twisting as Xander got rougher. "Xan... God, yeah."

"You like that?" Xander asked, thrusting his cock through Spike's pubic hair.

Spike spread his legs even wider, tensing his arms to bring the muscles out into sharp relief. It made him look sacrificial. Stretched out and open, available for whatever Xander might want.

"Yeah." His hips twisted just enough that this time, when Xander thrust, he got a ridge of bone as well as the sharp scrape of curls. "Oh, fuck, yeah. Waited for. . ."

Xander squeezed Spike's balls again, catching Spike's eager cry in his open mouth and kissing him so hard that his lip split. The sharp flare of pain and Spike's tongue searching out the drops of blood made him even harder. "You want my cock in you?" he asked seductively, letting go of Spike's balls and bringing his fingers up to Spike's mouth.

Spike moaned and sucked Xander's first two fingers in, swirling his tongue around, wetting them.

"You do, don't you," Xander said, pulling his hand away and rubbing roughly over Spike's entrance with his slick fingers. "You want me to shove my dick up inside you." He thrust his fingers inside in illustration.

Spike arched back, eyes opened wide in surprise. "Yes," he gasped as he resettled back down. "God, yes."

Xander worked both fingers roughly, fingering Spike wider. Leaning down he sucked on Spike's lower lip, then bit it hard enough that a hint of copper beaded up. "Good boy," he said, mimicking the tone Spike had used in the living room, in the darkness.

"Fuck," Spike muttered, his body tightening around Xander's fingers.

"I'm getting there," Xander said. Then, smiling inwardly and pulling his fingers out, he added, "Although maybe I should make you wait." He teased at the skin around Spike's hole, licking the blood off Spike's lip and knowing that he was tasting both their blood combined. He felt almost dizzy with power.

Spike shivered and kissed him back hungrily. "Please, pet," he said, lifting his hips.

"Like the sound of you begging," Xander mused. "Needy."

"For you," Spike finished, somehow instinctively knowing. His legs shifted wide, the one not held down by Xander's weight lifting up to expose himself. "For you, always for you, Xander. God, please."

Xander added a third finger, sucking thoughtfully on Spike's earlobe. "Why'd I take so long to do this?"

"Why are you taking so bloody long now?" Spike made a sound something between a groan and a laugh, rocking his hips and driving Xander's fingers deeper. "Please, Xan."

"I do like that," Xander said, biting hard on Spike's throat just beneath his ear. "Say it again."

Spike's whole body went limp in submission, opening up around Xander's fingers. He blinked at Xander. "Please, Xan?"

"Please what?" Xander asked.

Swallowing, eyes locked on Xander's, Spike whispered, "Please fuck me."

Time hiccuped. Xander had no recollection of rolling between Spike's legs, shoving knees up and positioning himself. One moment Spike was looking at him, saying words that meant I love you no matter what they actually said --

And then he was inside. All the way.

"Say it again." His voice went high with the strain of not moving, but his eyes never left Spike's.

Spike was totally still under him, every muscle tensed. "Fuck me, Xander. Please." There was no breath behind the words; they were so soft that Xander could barely here them, but it didn't matter. He knew.

He started to move, hips pulling back and rolling forward again, smooth and fast and way more coordinated that he usually was, and he was grunting with every thrust. It felt so amazingly incredible that his memory was smooth, wiped clean of anything but Spike as they fucked.

Spike gasped beneath him. His body arched, bow-taut, every part of him wide and welcoming. "Oh, hell," he said, lips and tongue pushing out a breathless voice. "Xander... "

Xander hands found his shoulders, pushing him down into the bed hard enough that he might have bruises. For at least a few hours, anyway -- and suddenly, Xander wanted to see that. Some mark that would last longer. His fingers clenched deeper, griping down as tight as he could.

"I love you," Xander said again. "Loved you since before I ever had you."

Spike gasped, blinking, just lying there now and taking it as Xander fucked him harder. "Yeah," he said. "Show me."

Xander's nails met flesh, but the only response was another shudder. "Thought you'd never want," he gasped out. The muscles in his thighs and back ached. He ignored that pain, focusing on the light throb of the bite instead. That pain he liked. "Never let myself believe you would."

Beneath him, Spike arched again, staring up at Xander like he was the sun.

He wanted to bite Spike's throat, to mark him there, but he couldn't lean in that close and keep fucking Spike the way he was, and he couldn't stop. He could feel his orgasm gathering in the small of his back, tightening everything, and he gasped and thrust forward into Spike again.

"Tell me you love me," Xander growled. moving a hand down and pinching one of Spike's nipples fiercely.

A tremor raced through Spike's body at the words. Fear, arousal, Xander couldn't identify it. For a moment, he was afraid that he'd gone too far. That Spike would allow him only so much leeway before his natural rebelliousness would kick in --

And then Spike started speaking.

"Love you," Spike moaned, his voice broken and bleeding and raw. Perfect. Sincere. "I love you."

"Don't stop," Xander said, and he wasn't just talking to Spike. "Don't stop, don't stop..." He didn't want this to be over, not so soon.

"Love you," Spike said again. "Xan... love you..." It was a chant, letting Xander leave the talking to Spike and concentrate on what his dick was doing, thrusting into Spike with a twist and jerk of his hips that made them both gasp.

"Love ... love ... love ... "

The words thrummed through him. His blood throbbed inside his veins, making it boil and froth and threaten to spill out. He felt too hot, too much, and all he wanted was more.

The head of his cock shuddered each time he raked over Spike's prostate, the instant clamp around his shaft traveling all the way to the base of his spine. This wasn't fucking. This was something Xander didn't have a name for. Rough and desperate, but strangely not. Part of Xander felt almost calm, for the first time in months. Maybe longer.

He never wanted it to end.

So, of course, like all good things, it had to.

Spike was moving under him, frantic hands clawing at the small of Xander's back as Spike twisted and squirmed. One of Spike's fingers dug into the bite mark, making Xander gasp out a word that might have been 'shit,' then Spike's head went back, chin up, every tendon in his throat stretched as his jaw thrust forward. "God," Spike choked, his whole body locking around Xander's cock.

Xander shoved his hips forward one more time, driving his cock into Spike's infinitely tight body as Spike came.

Muscles fluttered around Xander's cock, milking him and driving him closer, but still Xander held back. He wanted to see Spike's eyes when they finally opened again. He wanted to see crystal blue soften to the palest baby-blue shade, lax and loose and totally content.

More than the eyes, though, was the smile Spike gave him when he finally looked up. There was no artifice in the wry twist of lips, no masks. Just Spike.

"Git," Spike said affectionately. And then he squeezed. "I love you."

Xander exploded.

The rough sounds that forced their way from him with every scalding pulse of his dick sounded muffled, and it wasn't until a few seconds later that he realized his mouth was pressed to Spike's collarbone. He wasn't moving anymore, except for the small back and forth of his hips as his release poured out of him, and he could feel Spike's hand on his back, stroking gently.

"Sorry," Xander croaked out. He knew he was much too heavy to be laying on Spike this way and needed to move. He would, too, just as soon as his body started listening to him again.

Spike hushed him with a soft chuckle. The vibrations made Xander relax even more. "Don't go," Spike said. "Just stay."

"'m crushing you."

"No. You're perfect."

That made Xander feel pretty damned good, and he smiled before lifting his head and kissing Spike. "Yeah? Perfect?"

Spike nodded. "Perfect."

It felt that way to Xander, too.

They lay there quietly for a while.

"Are we good now?" Xander asked. "No shoe that's about to drop, right? This was the 'thing' that'd been bothering us?"

"Thought 'perfect' covered that pretty well," Spike said, with a little shrug. Then, face softening, he added, "Yeah, love. We're good."

That deserved kisses. Sleepy, lazy kisses that Xander couldn't seem to stop. "So we can stop talking about our feelings now?" he said to cover how mushy he was actually feeling.

Spike's arms tightened reassuringly. "Well, the girls'll probably have something to say about that."

True. "But we can avoid them, right? Or... tell them that we're too busy being soppy in between shagging to handle it?"

"I'd imagine a detailed description or two of our sessions between the sheets'll shut them up," Spike said, grinning.

Xander laughed. "You wouldn't," he said.

"'Course I would."

Xander growled, just a little, and nipped Spike's jaw. "Bad Spike. No cookie for you."

"So long as it's not no nookie. . ."

"You don't seriously think I could pull that off, do you?" Xander asked. Regretfully, he moved off of Spike, lying down next to him and pulling the vampire into his arms.

"What, no nookie?" Spike looked smug. "Nah. Wouldn't last a day."

"Neither would you. You wouldn't last twelve hours." Xander ran his hand along Spike's back.

Folding his hands on Xander's chest, Spike dropped his chin onto his knuckles. It was a very pointy chin. "I could last more'n twelve hours," Spike said. He didn't sound like he wanted to prove it, though.

"Uh huh. This is the guy who hits me up for sex the minute I come home for work. The one who won't even let me say 'hi', somedays, before there's a cock down my throat."

"You know you love it," Spike said.

"That's not the issue at hand," Xander said, poking Spike in the chest.

"No," Spike agreed. "The issue, as you so eloquently put it, is that neither one of us wants to go without. And we don't have to. Seems to me that makes us pretty lucky."

Xander opened his mouth -- and then closed it. "Yeah," he said, tone totally different from the exasperation before. "Yeah, I am."

"So'm I," Spike mumbled, with his lips on Xander's, doing that thing he did to the roof of Xander's mouth with a flick of his tongue. "Xan?"

"Yeah?" Xander said, muffled.

"Shut up," Spike said, "And kiss me."

"Bossy git," Xander mumbled.

Spike's chuckle filled his mouth. Only for a moment, though, because then they were kissing. Really kissing, losing themselves in the taste and touch and emotion of the other.

It made Xander want to fly.

And he was pretty sure, from the way Spike was touching him, and the way Spike's lips were teasing his, and the way Spike was moving against him, that Spike felt the same way.

Home