Housewarming Gifts




“Yes, luv?”

“Why am I cuffed to the bed?”

“You were thrashing in your sleep.  Right annoying, it was.”

“Oh.  Okay.  I’m in your lap, too.”

“Technically that’s over my lap, but yes.  You are.”

Slow, deep breath.  “Why am I lying in your lap, Spike?”

“Told you.  You were thrashin’ about and I didn’t feel like being bruised by your great hammy fists.”


“So you put me over your lap and cuffed me to the bedframe?”

“Well, yeah.”  So well trained, his boy was.  Caught on right quick, what with the erection slowly growing against his leg.  “I like you that way.”

“You like me hand-cuffed, face down in your lap because—ow!”

“You,” Spike admonished in a perfectly neutral tone, as though they were discussing what they were going to do today.  Which they were.  He smacked the other cheek for good measure.  “Are a very bad boy.”

That required two swats.  Spike wondered if he should tell Xander that he could hear and feel those grins without ever needing to see them.  But that would mean giving up his unfair advantage and, well, evil.  Besides.  They made him feel kinda gooshy inside—which was probably a very good reason not to tell.  Vampires didn’t get gooshy.  Or didn’t admit to it.  It was in the manual, somewhere.

“Did you hit your head?”  Xander was wheezing slightly, sounded awfully funny. “Do you remember who you are, Spike?  Because you calling me evil is—like comparing me to something I really can’t think of when your hand is doing that to my ass.”

“Not my memory you should be questioning, pet.”  And if he brushed just there. . .


Well, there was a reason he’d made Xander get an apartment with sound-proofed walls.

“Yes, pet?”

Xander’s head popped up for a second, flashing a boyish grin.  “You’re evil.”  Dropping his head back down, he snuggled in closer.  Well, as much the ropes would let him.

Spike grinned delightedly, leaning down to place a kiss in the center of Xander’s back.  “Why, thank you, pet.  I’m so glad you’ve noticed.”

The sound of panting was a lovely way to start a lazy Sunday morning.  Not that this was news, of course, but reaffirming it never hurt.  Especially when Xander was writhing like he didn’t know what to do with his body.  Silly boy.  He should know much, much better by now.

His next smack made one cheek wiggle as the other tensed appealingly.  Spike wanted to bite along the musculature, but that would change the game.

“Ow!  Again!”  More grinning that made his skin shiver accompanied the comment.  The silly brat was laughing into the pillow, although Xander had made some attempt to infuse the appropriate sounds of hurt and dismay.  Not that they were very successful.  His hand wasn’t even tingling, yet.

“So sorry, pet, did that hurt?”

Much longer pause while Xander visibly tried to decide which answer would be more. . . beneficial.  “I’m a bad boy?”

Three smacks in quick succession, much harder than the playful ones before.  Xander gasped and clutched at the nylon rope hooking him to the bed-posts.  “Yes, you are, pet.  Do you know why you’re a bad boy?”

“I, um. . .  I left your packet of blood out yesterday?”  Which was something else Spike had to talk to him about, since the damned thing had almost coagulated by the time he found it.  Good thing he’d been hungry.

One hard slap at the very bottom of those tempting cheeks.  Xander jumped and squeaked, babbling something about ‘sorry’ and ‘bad’ and what was that about the table?

“No, pet, although we’re going to have a long discussion on the various eating habits we don’t like but still have to—hm, tolerate.”  The shivering below was not due to cold—it was too bloody hot in the bedroom for him to be cold—and Spike tried not to preen.  Yeah, he had a sexy voice.  What?

“Okay.  So. . . was it that thing with the ice cream?  ’Cause I know you were planning to make sundaes with Dawn.”

No, it wasn’t the thing with the ice cream and Xander had already bought two more containers for tomorrow night, which the brat knew, so he was just being obstinate, now.

Spike knew how to deal with obstinate.

His hand was stinging after this next volley of hits, but only pleasantly so.  Xander was making fake-sobbing noises, his arse just slightly pink.  Big faker.  Spike watched Xander’s legs kick out.  Strong legs.  Maybe he should tie them down, too.

“Hey—Spike—you stopped—”

Easily sliding free, Spike tied Xander’s legs to the bed posts with the ropes still there from the last time they’d played this game.  Well, a similar game.  Then he slid back underneath, relying on preternatural strength and balance and the appreciation for a bit of pain to position his legs correctly.  Xander’s butt was now high in the air.  His erection swung between Spike’s legs and the sheets.  Didn’t really touch either.

Xander thrust experimentally, anyway, because he was a stubborn git and had to see for himself.  Not that Spike minded the stubbornness.  The whining, he could do without.  “Spike!  No fair!”

“I’m no fair?”  Spike stared down at his lover, wondering if he’d been possessed again.

“You are going to spank me, right?”  Now where the hell did Xander get off, sounding all patient and condescending?

“You wanna do something else?”  Spike made himself sound doubtful, like he really would stop.  Which he would, if Xander really wanted him to.

“Spike!”  Well, then.  Looks like Xander didn’t want him to.

“But you’ve been a very bad boy, pet,” he murmured.  Grinning like the demon he was.  “So bad you can’t even remember it, can you?  No idea what’s got me so angry with you; why I want to take that white arse of yours and make it turn deep, dark red.  So you’re aching and throbbing an’ so hard for me, but this is punishment, Xand.  Not gonna let you come.  Not gonna come until I say you can.”

Hm.  Maybe he’d have to dial down the dirty talk.  Xander was making noises like he was going to come now, before they’d even started.

They couldn’t have that, now.

Xander gave a despairing moan when Spike slid the cock-ring on, twisting his head around to glare.  “You know I hate these, Spike!  C’mon, let me—eep!”

Well, it wasn’t really an ‘eep’ sound, but Spike wasn’t sure what else to call the high-pitched noise his lover made when he pinched high on the inside of the right thigh, where Xander was oh, so sensitive.  What had the boy been thinking, telling Spike about that. . .

“Are you going to behave now?” Spike asked carefully.  Xander’s head dropped without answering, burying it in the pillows.  “Because, you know, I can stop.  The paper’s still outside.  I need to go get it before the old blue-hair down in 15A steals it.  Again.  And creases the comics page because she’s too bloody cheap to buy her own.”

Xander was doing that muffled laughter thing again, which would just never do.  This wasn’t about making him laugh. That happened with disturbing frequency, hardly any effort needed at all.  This was about Spike punishing him.

But Xander laughing was almost as lovely as Xander moaning and riding him at breakneck speed and oh, yeah, he could make Xander do that afterwards, couldn’t he?  When he was all toasty warm and sizzling.  Mm.  Toasted Xander.

His hand came down without him really telling it to, landing some medium-strength blows on thigh and arse.  Xander choked back whatever he was going to say, riding out the feel of Spike smacking him evenly, like a baker properly kneading dough.  Had to keep it nice and balanced.

“Do you know why you’re a bad boy?” Spike asked, steadily smacking away.  Xander was having a hard time breathing, now, smile wiped away clean.  “Do you remember how angry you made me, hm?”

“When?”  It took three tries to get that word out, but his boy was persistent.  “Yesterday?  Or maybe the day before?  Or the one before that?”

It didn’t actually sound like that, of course.  More like, “Ye-yes—harder!—yester—yesterdaaay!”  And that was only the second word.

His hand was nicely warm now, so he briefly switched to the right.  The angle was bad, but it let his left hand cool down a little.  For later.

“No, not then.  It’s been a while, pet, but I think you can remember.”

Extra hard smack and Xander eeped again.

“How long ago are we talking?”  Which took a good five minutes to get out, but Spike was more than content to wait.  Well, to spank while he waited.

“Couple months ago, when you told me about a very,” hard smack, “naughty secret of yours.  ’Bout sneaking out to see them that you shouldn’t have, late one Halloween night?  When you should’ve been home in your warm,” smack, “snug,” smack, “safe,” smack, “bed?”

“What are you—oh!”  The cartoon lightbulb made sable hair glow prettily and Spike knew he was in trouble when he could see an imaginary lightbulb going off.  But it wasn’t just the mental leaps and connections that he’d been waiting for, but the heat and the look in brown eyes he couldn’t see but still knew was there.  The one that said Xander knew about the manual.  And didn’t mind not throwing it out.

“Oh, come on, Spike, the windows were covered in black gunk!”  Xander was squirming again, sounding appropriately defensive.  “And nobody knew I was there—not you, not the minions, not even Drusilla!”  Which made Spike remember when Xander had made him play Drusilla.  Three days before the brat had let him come, that time.

Spike blinked, realizing his mind had wandered.

“Bad boy!”  Maybe he should go get the newspaper, since rolling it up would make a good prop right about now.  Except that would mean moving.  Instead he began to spank Xander nice and hard, breaking up the patterns with some random slaps that went up his spine a little and down to the back of his knees, which were extra sensitive.

Xander was groaning pretty much non-stop, now, and breathing could become an issue.  But not yet.  Because Spike was angry, a little bit.  Because being scared made him angry.  And thinking about when he wasn’t there to protect Xander—might have been the thing hurting Xander—always made him scared.  Scared enough that one day, he might even admit it.

For now, though, he was content to smack away at Xander’s ass.  The sound of flesh hitting flesh had always calmed him and the feel of his hand against warm skin was even better.  But it was the way Xander arched into his touch, trying to shove himself up higher to meet each blow that made it so good.  The sounds he made, breathlessly begging for it to be harder and more and god, so good, and Spike, and love, love, love.

The gooshy feeling was back but Spike didn’t mind it at all.

When his arm started to burn a little, he knew he was at the right spot.  Xander’s bottom was dark red and Spike knew if he went any further it’d start to hurt in the bad way.

Slathering lube on himself took seconds and then he was pushing inside.  Xander pushed back.

Untying Xander without slipping free was easy.  Getting Xander facing him wasn’t, so he quickly pulled free—whapped Xander once when he moaned—and rolled his lover onto his back.  Sliding back in, he rolled them so that Spike was on the bottom.  He grinned up at Xander’s red face and offered both hands.  “Ride me?”

“Gimme—gimme a minute.  Dizzy.  Need blood in legs.”

“But it’s all in your cock.”

They both looked down: big, purple cock.  Xander grinned and grabbed Spike’s hands.  “Oh, yeah.  Good point.”

Xander started slowly, but Spike didn’t mind.  He had a Xander bouncing on his cock.  And soon that Xander was bouncing faster.  Then a lot faster.  So fast that Spike could see each muscle and bit of flab Xander didn’t have bouncing, too.

He knew Xander wouldn’t think so, but it was so. . . hot.

Eventually, Spike yanked his hands free, grabbed Xander’s hips and slammed them down hard.  He cried out as he came deep within Xander and Xander cried out as his sore, abused arse was ground onto Spike.

It was a while before Spike could think again.

“That was nice, pet,” he said when he could.  “Sleepy now.”  Spike relaxed slowly against the bed.  Sighed contentedly.  Even stretched a little.

Xander glared.

Spike smiled lazily.

Xander glared harder.

Spike glanced at the clock before giving Xander a smile that was probably gooshy.

Xander snarled.

“Oh, did you want something, pet?”

“Spike!  Either take this cock-ring off and let me come or—”

“Or what?”  A sudden burst of energy had them flipped back over, Xander’s hands stretched above his head.

Xander glared hardest.  “Or I’ll tell Buffy why you won’t eat Cherry Garcia anymore.”

Oh.  That—would be bad.  But it wouldn’t do to let Xander know that.  Spike grinned wickedly, the one that made Xander tense and look nervous when they were out in public.  In private, though, it made him throb.


“I dunno, she might like knowing that.”  No, she really wouldn’t.  Because Spike wouldn’t like it at all.  “Maybe I should tell her?”

It was definitely a growl this time.

“Oh, all right then.  Demanding git.  Hang on.”

Pulling out of Xander took some concentration.  And robbed Xander of his quite nicely.  Shimmying down, Spike positioned his mouth right over Xander’s cock.  Glanced up.  “You know, we really should tell her.”

Deftly unsnapping a cock-ring while deep-throating a screaming Xander was a skill he’d worked very hard to perfect.

“So.”  Spike waited until Xander sounded less like a freight train.  “Are you going to behave now?”

Xander grinned without opening his eyes.  “No?”

Spike grinned back.  “Good.”

Next in series: Foul Play