Spike watched Xander face his nightly dilemma with an evil grin quirking his lips. Oh, this never got old. He’d mocked Xander so much for wriggling into a clean pair of shorts under the covers, that the lad really had no choice but to do it openly or sleep in the ones he’d worn in the day and endure Spike’s pointed comments about slobbishness being next to stinkiness. Having been pushed neatly into that particular corner, Xander then had to choose whether to give Spike a view of his arse or his cock.

Tonight ... hmm. He’d spent the night with Anya so he wasn’t likely to be all hard and wanting; she’d have seen to that ... but Xander didn’t seem to mind Spike seeing him hard for some reason. Arse then and yes, here it came, nicely curved and muscular, and no need to even pretend not to be watching because it made Xander blush and that was reason and excuse enough.

And tonight, that blush seemed to have spread...

“Well, well, well.”

“Did your needle get stuck?”

Xander yanked his shorts up even quicker than usual and spun around to glare.

Spike let eyebrows and mouth work together to produce the perfect knowing, amused look. “You piss her off? Or were you extra good?”

“I don’t know what –”

“Oh, please! Going to be a while before those marks fade. What did she use on you? Hand to start with; can see every finger, but after that, when she’d got you nice and warm and wriggling?”

Xander’s mouth was hanging open and he was such a pretty shade of scarlet that Spike felt his mouth water. Pity Anya hadn’t broken the skin though...

“I don’t ...I fell.”

Spike rolled his eyes and didn’t even bother to reply to that piece of nonsense.

“It’s none of your business,” Xander said suddenly, the words shooting out of him as if they’d been piling up behind a dam of denial that Spike’s patent lack of acceptance had smashed.

“Like that’s going to stop me,” Spike said, flashing him a cheerful grin. If his hands hadn’t been tied, he’d have rubbed them together gleefully.

Xander looked around helplessly and then Spike watched his shoulders square and his jaw set firmly. Even better; lad was going to attack. Oh, this was going to be amusing...

“Spike, if you get your kicks out of poking around my sex life –”

“Not really, but I’ll take what I can get. Not fussy.”

“ – then, yes, fine. Anya and I have been, uh, experimenting. Perfectly normal. She’s a very – she’s – ”

“A goer. Uninhibited, imaginative, zero hang ups. I know, you pillock; she’s a demon in her head still.” He let the pause linger as long as Anya’s hand must have done. “Just like me.”

Xander swallowed and now his eyes were fixed on Spike as he arched his hips just enough to make it plain what he had to offer that Anya didn’t.

“I’m not interested, Spike.”

“Interested? In what? Just making an observation.” Spike stirred as much as the ropes would allow, flexing his muscles, shamelessly posing and still managing to make it look accidental.

“You were – will you stop doing that? That wriggling thing? God, you’re pathetic.”

“Keep lying, Xander. Every time you do, you grow another inch on your –” Spike let his eyes go south and punctuated with a smirk, “ – nose.”

“What do you want?”

Was that defeat? This early? Spike felt a pang of disappointment. “Nothing, mate. Just having a bit of fun. Off you go; don’t forget to sleep on your front.”

“You cocky, sneering, leering –”

“Poet and pillock? Let’s see; what else starts with ‘p’? Pervert, prick, ponce...”

“Out of patience.”

“No, it doesn’t – oh.”

Spike had just enough time to reflect that you push anyone too hard and they’ll snap like an elastic band, stinging your fingers with an unexpectedness that jolts more than the pain. Then he was staring at Xander’s backside, as the lad shoved his shorts down, took three steps forward and turned around. “There you go, Spike. Take a good look. See if you can tell where she started; left side or right. See if you can tell where she stopped for a moment because I was coming too hard to lie still and the marks aren’t evenly spaced. Let me know if the paddle left bruises this time, or if they haven’t surfaced yet.” Xander waited a long moment and then turned and smiled down at Spike. “Then think about how much it’s going to hurt for you to sit in that chair tonight.”

Spike felt puzzlement replace a grudging admiration for his guts. “What? My arse isn’t the one that’s burning, mate.”

Xander reached for the ropes. “Not yet.” He undid them quickly and hauled Spike up. “Get out of your jeans, Spike. Give me a floor show; think you owe me one, right?”

Spike shook his head angrily. “No fucking way, Harris.”

Xander smiled. “You think I can’t make you? Forgetting that you let me tie you up every night?”

“Yeah, but that’s because...” Spike heard his voice trail off and bit his lip. Xander raised both eyebrows and waited. “Because otherwise you’ll kick me out and – oh, bugger it. If you want me naked –”

“I want your jeans off. Do all vampires have memory loss or does it only affect the older crowd?”

Spike sucked in an indignant, unneeded breath and reached for his zip. An erection Xander’s expression was doing nothing to soften made peeling his jeans off an exercise in caution but he managed it and stood there, letting the tip of his tongue show as he grinned. Not like he had anything to be ashamed of...

Xander was looking, getting a right good eyeful, arms folded across his chest, not even trying to hide his own cock, standing to attention like a good little soldier...

“You’re not coming on my bed and making me sleep in the mess.”

"What?"

“Turn around, kneel on the chair.”

“Now, hang on!”

Xander looked as close to bored as you could get when your cock was quivering. “Sorry, Spike; didn’t I mention why I wanted your ass to be bare? Though I’d have thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Enlighten me,” Spike said tightly, feeling the slow burn of impending humiliation and pain.

“Told you; I like to experiment. Anya doesn’t like being spanked and I never really got to try it out, not properly.”

Spike didn’t fear the pain; nothing Harris could do would hurt that much...but the surrender, the submission – God, how low had he fallen? And why did that thought lick around his cock like a warm tongue, tightening his balls, stiffening his erection so that his foreskin pulled back and exposed him just that little bit more?

“I bet there’s lots you haven’t done; forget the spanking; want me to suck you off, or –”

“I want you bent over, ass up and legs spread, Spike. Shall I write it down for you?”

“Fucking bastard!” Spike felt his hand curl into a fist he couldn’t use and growled in frustration.

“Not really; going to let you come, after all,” Xander said reasonably. “More than I usually do. Of course, that only applies if you get off on being spanked, because I’m not letting you do it any other way.” He grinned. “Guess we’ll see if there’s two perverts in the house, huh?”

Spike turned in silence and knelt on the chair. It was too narrow and his knee slipped off. Xander made an annoyed noise. “Let’s try something else. Stand up.”

Spike watched Xander sit down on the chair, his legs spread by the width of the extended seat and with a resignation he hadn’t known he possessed, positioned himself across Xander’s lap.

The first blow was tentative and he guessed the boy wasn’t quite as sure of himself as he made out. He groaned theatrically, mockingly, deciding that rebellion was positively required in a situation like this, and heard Xander’s breath hiss out angrily. Oh, fuck. Not such a good idea, maybe...

The next slap was much harder, as was the third, and Xander wasn’t making the mistake of hurrying or taking it too slow. Spike imagined Anya lecturing him as she walloped his arse: “Allow enough time for the pain to spread, don’t waste it. This hurts my hand too, you know, so I want to get the full effect from each slap. Then, just when it’s easing off, just when you think it’s bearable –” And her little hand would come own as she spoke and he bet Xander would yelp, nice and satisfyingly loud.

Xander had found a rhythm now and Spike, well, it wasn’t hurting him more than he could stand, course not...but Xander’s hand was large, the arm attached was strong and he seemed to know just how to lay the slaps down in the same spot, one, two, three, so that when the fourth landed somewhere else again, the first spot didn’t stop throbbing and burning until it was its turn again...

Spike felt his eyes squeeze shut and began to sink inside the pain. The sound a spanking made...Xander’s quick intakes of breath coming faster and faster, the noise the parting air whispered to the hand that beat it aside, the flat smack of hand on heat...and his own moans, real now, fervent and honest, a background against which the silence from Xander glowed bright and pure.

His feet were braced against the floor, the carpet sticky and thin, a sensation so disgusting he blotted it out, preferring to concentrate, as best he could, on Xander’s palm, spread out wide in the small of his back, holding him in place with a determined assurance. His arms were stretched out, fingers groping, but the floor was too far, even if he’d wanted to touch it and so he gripped Xander’s leg, feeling it flex and tremble beneath his hands.

Xander’s cock was against his, angled awkwardly, sliding under it, a rod of flesh, hard and getting harder. Spike wondered if Xander would come first and if he would stop when he did;  dizzy with the need not to beg, never to ask for this to stop because he didn’t want it to...no, he didn’t want to ask ...didn’t want –

Xander’s fingers stilled against him; a flurry of slaps ending in this sudden cessation and as Xander shifted and bent, blowing cool air against the hurting flesh, as unexpected as stopping had been, Spike cried out and came, jerking helplessly, gracelessly until Xander turned him, so that when his eyes opened he saw Xander’s face above him, Xander’s eyes studying him and he heard himself say Xander’s name with an intonation that said ‘yours’ to anyone who was listening.

And Xander lay back and glanced down and waited for Spike’s mouth to practice what it promised.