"So ... this is my place, huh?"
There was an awkward moment when they arrived at Xander's apartment. Spike was appalled to realize that their approach to the doorway had a distinctly end-of-the-date feeling to it. Something was coming to an end, and the transition was uncomfortable.
As they stood in the doorway, Xander seemed hesitant to step inside the unfamiliar abode.
"It looks big. I must make pretty good money."
"Look. Are you gonna go inside or not? 'Cause I'm not standing here all night chatting about the flat."
"Oh. Uh. Right." Xander stepped inside, looking around him in some confusion. "I wonder if I have any food. I really could eat a llama."
"Doubt you have one in the fridge." Spike followed Xander into the living room, pointing the way to the kitchen and closing the front door behind him. "In fact, probably won't be anything much in there, but the magnet from the pizza place is on the door."
"Mmmmmmm. Pizza. Sweet tomato-y goodness, you shall slake my manly hunger!" Xander already had the cordless phone pressed to his ear as he stood on the kitchen linoleum, reading the Pizza Hut delivery number off the magnet on the fridge door. "Hey, Spike! You want anything?"
"Nah. I'll get some blood later."
When Xander had finished placing his order, he came back into the living room and hung up the phone. Awkwardness filled the room again. Spike started edging back toward the front door.
"All right, then. You're home, all safe and sound. Should phone up your friends, let 'em know you're back."
Xander's eyebrows went up. "Spike, I'm not gonna call some people I don't even know."
"If they've realized you were missing, they're gonna be out of their heads..."
Xander shrugged. "Hey, if you want to call them, don't let me stop you."
Rolling his eyes, Spike strode over to the phone and dialed.
"Hey, Red. You all good there? No. Well... Yeah. He's here. Now, wait, see, there's this problem. No. No. No. Not an apocalypse, Red. Just a problem. See, the whelp got hit on the head, and he's got a bit of a concussion. No. No. Bloody hell! It wasn't me! No, I didn't take him to the hospital, because we've been in a bloody cage for the past two days! Yeah, well, I would've told you if you'd shut your gob for twenty seconds at a stretch. Yeah? Fine."
Spike held out the phone toward Xander. "She wants to talk to you."
Xander shook his head, backing away. "I'm gonna have a look around. You tell her what's up. I don't want to talk to strangers right now. I'm tired, and I just want to eat, and have a shower, and go to bed. No talking. No explaining. Please?"
Spike tried not to show it, but the "please" melted his resolve. "Grr. Fine." He pressed the phone to his ear again as Xander wandered away, opening doors and cabinets curiously.
"Red? He doesn't want to talk right now. See ... Wait ... No ... He's just tired. Can't it wait for tomorrow? He'll ... we'll ... I'll ... uh ... talk to you tomorrow, eh? Yeah. That'd be best." After hanging up the phone, Spike tiredly rubbed his forehead. Bloody kids're more trouble than they're worth.
He walked through the apartment, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking for Xander. The boy was peering into the bedroom closet, idly fingering the fabric of one of his gaudier shirts. He looked up when Spike came into the room. "Do I really wear this stuff?"
"Afraid so, pet. Look, if you're all set here, I'm gonna head out."
"Um. Yeah? I was kinda ... kinda hoping you might stick around. I mean, you probably know this apartment better than I do ... and you're the only person I know ... and I'd kinda rather not be alone right now, you know? It's just all kinda freaky, and having you around makes it ... less freaky."
Spike hesitated a long moment. The boy wanted him here? It'd been a while since anybody actually said they wanted him around. Well, the Nibblet, but that wasn't the same. "Uh, sure, I guess so."
When Xander had devoured a large pepperoni pizza and Spike had drunk some blood they'd found in the refrigerator -- "See? This isn't friendship? How many of your non-friends keep bags of blood in the fridge?" "Well, there's this one git in L.A...." -- they both lay sprawled comfortably on the couch, half-watching an episode of "Law & Order."
"You know," drawled Spike, "every minute of every day, this show is on somewhere in the world. Taking over the bloody planet, I tell you. Mark my words."
"Somehow, I can't bring myself to be big with the caring. The idiot box is lit up. The pizza is digesting. I'm not currently imprisoned by any sadistic cowboys. By my definition, all's right with the world."
Xander stood and stretched, muscles rippling distractingly beneath his t-shirt. Spike eyed him with obvious appreciation. The kid really did have a decent body on him these days, and memories of the closet, and their later kiss, caused his jeans to grow uncomfortably tight. He turned back to stare at the television, feigning sudden interest in bland courtroom melodrama.
Xander stretched his neck to either side. "Jeez. I feel like crap. Kinda like I've been sitting in a cement cage for two days, sleeping on some rank ancient mattress. ... Oh, wait! That's because I have!" Xander stretched his back again and then pulled the gray t-shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it onto the floor. "I think it's high time this escaped prisoner indulged in the hygienic bliss we mortals call 'showering'."
"Uh ... yeah. I'll just be buggering off, then...."
"Want to come with?" Xander was smiling mischievously.
Spike raised an eyebrow.
Xander shrugged. "Hey, you've gotta be yearning after the cleanliness as much as I am, right? And ... I just thought..."
"Okay." Xander paused a moment. "Why?"
Spike's face was grim. "I'm not getting staked later when you remember you hate me. Not getting blamed for taking advantage..."
But Xander interrupted. "Wait a frilly pink second, there. If I hated you before all this happened, then why was I drinking with you every night, huh? And what about the ... the thing ... in the closet?"
"Don't have to like a bloke to fondle his dangly bits." Spike was looking away, refusing to make eye contact.
Xander nodded slowly. "So you don't want..."
Spike's eyes flew to Xander's face as if against his will. His voice was quiet when he said, "I didn't say..."
"Look. I don't know what was going on before. But I know that I trust you. I mean, you're the only person I trust. We've been through stuff together. And I'm ... uh ... you know ... I'm ... attracted to you. After that kiss in the cage, I sorta thought you were ... you know ... too." This new Xander, this amnesiac Xander who apparently didn't remember a lifetime of being mocked, was a lot more confident, more open, more ... courageous, maybe. And with that bare chest ... Spike wanted to grab him. But he didn't.
"Yeah, and you remember what's what, I'll be filling an ashtray."
"Fine. You don't want anything with me, that's cool. I just thought..."
"You offering a no-stake guarantee?" Spike looked hesitant, but trying to hide it. His expression showed a strange combination of cynicism and hope.
"Spike, I don't think I'm going to lose my mind when I find my memory. I'm not going to forget that I wanted this."
"You sure?" Spike hadn't moved from his place on the couch, but his body was tensed now.
Xander smiled. "You know, it's weird, but ... yeah. I'm sure."
Slowly, Spike stood and walked to where Xander watched him from the center of the room, stopping when they were face-to-face, close. He'd always thought Harris was pretty tall, but they were actually near the same height, only a couple inches different. Their eyes were almost on a level. After a moment of hesitation, Spike licked his lips and then leaned in very slightly, hands still at his sides, to press his mouth to Xander's, waiting cautiously for a reaction.
The boy didn't disappoint him, immediately returning the kiss with obvious eagerness. Within moments, they were pressed together, their mouths hungrily sliding against each other, tongues thrusting and stroking, hands clutching at each other's bodies, trying to get closer. It was as if they'd returned to their kiss earlier in the day and simply picked up where they'd left off.
Then Xander pulled away slightly, his breathing shallow and fast. He watched Spike with eyes dilated by passion, but his mouth quirked up in a slight smile. "Shower now, okay? Because I can smell my manly prison stench, and it is so not a turn-on."
The shower was warm and wet and soap-slippery, magnifying every touch, so that the simple brush of Spike's hand against his hip made Xander shudder with want.
But the intensity of the sensation also caused them to slow, to focus more on exploratory touches, to kiss more languidly, to run soapy hands over biceps and shoulders and collarbones, to watch with fascination as suds cascaded across firm flesh, to lean and taste fresh water from a hardened nipple, to twine fingers into wet hair and tug slightly, to assiduously wash each other probably more thoroughly than either had ever been washed before.
When Xander wrapped a soap-slick hand around Spike's hardened cock, they both grinned on a quick pleased breath. Xander squeezed and pulled, enjoying the sight of Spike's wet eyelashes fluttering, his eyes closing, his mouth opening slightly in another gasp of pleasure.
After a few firm strokes, Spike took Xander's left hand and made sure it was soapy before pulling it behind himself, resting the boy's fingers between his buttocks. Xander paused a second, uncertain what exactly he should do, but then tentatively stroked his finger along the puckered flesh, making Spike moan.
"That ... feels good?"
"See for yourself, pet." Spike soaped up his left hand and reached around the boy to run his fingers along the outside of Xander's hole.
Eyes opening wide, Xander gasped, "Wow. Never felt that good when I washed there."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," smirked Spike, manhandling the boy to turn him toward the shower wall, kneeing his legs apart.
"What...?" Xander began to ask, but stopped when Spike sank to his knees behind him. What's he doing back there? Then he felt hands grasping his buttocks and pulling them gently apart, water cascading against his back, washing soap away.
And then he nearly fell down. Instead of soapy fingers, a tongue was touching him down there. At least, he assumed that's what it was, because he couldn't see it, but it felt smooth and firm and ... agile, twisting and flicking and circling until Xander thought he might scream. Occasionally, it slipped inside, and those were the times when Xander groaned out loud, resting his forehead against the shower wall and arching his back to raise his hips, trying to give Spike even better access. The tongue slipped in more, and suddenly the skin on the inside of his ass was one of Xander's favorite places on his body. It was almost as intense as having his cock touched, but different. More ... diffuse. Like he felt it all over his body. He shivered and spread his legs a bit wider.
Spike pulled away and Xander made an unhappy sound, starting to turn, but Spike only held him in place and chuckled. "Don't worry. Not stopping." And then a wet finger was probing Xander's asshole, just lightly touching the outside, which had softened and widened with all the tongue action. Gently, the finger pushed inside, further than the tongue had gone, making Xander moan and arch his back again.
"Want to fuck you," Spike purred as he moved his finger in and out in a slow rhythm, letting Xander get used to the intrusion. At his words, the boy's heart rate sped up even more, his legs widening just a bit more, his back arching further. When Xander seemed ready, he inserted a second finger and pumped steadily, murmuring, "Slide my cock inside you ... feel you hot and tight around me..."
Xander tensed very slightly, a frown creasing his forehead. This seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't quite figure out why. Like he'd heard these words before somewhere.
Me stroking you like this while my cock drives into you, filling you up, thrusting into you, making you beg for it, making you whine and thrust your ass back to meet me...
Spike carefully inserted a third finger and Xander gasped at the feeling of fullness, the feeling that Spike was touching him everywhere inside at the same time, that the stroking fingers were turning him inside-out with the intensity of sensation, that he might cry or laugh or something else equally embarrassing. Reaching down with a shaking hand, he began fisting his cock rapidly, knowing that he was going to come soon, even if only from Spike's fingers and words
And Spike was still talking in a low voice. "You'd like it wouldn't you? You want it. Want me to come in your ass, want me to take you hard, make you beg. Yeah, you'd beg me for it, wouldn't you?"
Yeah, you'd beg me for it. Slick me up in your mouth and beg me to bend you over ... beg me to slide in, all hot and wet and tight. Beg me to give it to you. Beg me for more. Beg me to fuck you harder...
And in that moment, Spike's words flipped some sort of mental switch, and Xander suddenly remembered. Remembered everything. The closet at the Army base. Willow. Drinking with Spike at the crypt. His third grade teacher, Mrs. Kretsinger, and her fascination with President Chester A. Arthur. His carpentry job at the construction company. His break-up with Anya. Buffy's death. Doing the Snoopy dance every Christmas.
Everything. Everything came rushing in all at once.
And at the same moment, physical sensation overcame him and he bucked and cried out and came all over the shower wall with Spike's fingers still in his ass.
Xander rested for a long moment, his forehead against the wall, his legs still spread, his mind racing, as Spike rose to stand behind him. Turning only his head, Xander stared at Spike in recognition, in disbelief at all that had happened between them, in horror at what this might mean for his life.
So, what, I'm gay now? I'm a gay vampire-lover? I just let a guy vampire lick my ass. And I liked it.
And, in the instant after their eyes met, in the instant that Xander's shock and horror registered, Spike's expression went from warm and hungry to cold and distant. "Right," he said abruptly, stepping out of the shower with no further discussion, dripping on the floor. "Fucked some sense into you, did I? Remembered everything? Guess that's my cue to bugger off."
Somehow, Xander couldn't bring himself to say anything. He knew he was probably acting like a prick, but he just couldn't help wishing that none of this had ever happened. He wished he could go back to what his life was before they'd ever gone to that stupid Army base, before they'd ever hid in that closet, before he'd ever kissed Spike and ... wanted him. Because he didn't want to want Spike. Numbly, he just watched the vampire in question quickly towel himself dry and stride nude from the bathroom.
Xander turned off the water and got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself and following Spike into the bedroom, where he was already pulling on his black jeans with some difficulty because of his still-damp skin. His movements were jerky with some emotion, anger or frustration or something else even more complicated ... like hurt. Or maybe betrayal. He wasn't looking at Xander. Xander just watched.
When he'd gotten all his clothes pulled on, Spike stood and smiled sardonically. "Cheers for the hospitality, mate. Guess I'll be on my way."
And then, with a slam of the front door, Spike was gone.
And Xander sat on the bed and stared dazedly into space, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do now.
It was three weeks later that Xander first went to the crypt looking for Spike. No luck. He hung around for a couple hours, sitting in Spike's chair, watching Spike's tv, nervously drinking Spike's beer, but the vamp himself never showed up.
On Friday night after work, he showed up at the empty crypt again, this time with a six-pack of beer and a bottle of Jack Daniels, determined to stay until Spike appeared. Figuring that Spike was probably out on patrol or something, Xander once again made himself comfortable and turned on the television.
"Law & Order," he muttered in disdain. "Spike was right. This show's taking over the world." He changed the channels until he found an episode of "The Simpsons," then settled down with a beer. He was feeling more than a little nervous about seeing Spike again, and alcohol seemed to soothe the flutterings in his stomach.
Ever since the shower, he'd been dreaming about Spike, incredible sex dreams that left him a little dazed and aroused all day long afterward. He couldn't count the number of times he'd had to hide sudden physical reactions to the memories. The guys at work had probably noticed, probably figured he had a new girlfriend or something. It was embarrassing.
But, after a lot of thinking, and a lot of talking with Willow, he'd finally admitted that he'd liked what happened in the closet with Spike. And he'd liked what happened in the shower with Spike. And ... yeah, okay ... he'd like to do more with Spike. Because it didn't necessarily mean he was gay, since he liked women, too, but maybe he was bi or something.
The way Willow had explained it, it didn't matter what label you put on something: bi or gay or straight or whatever. What mattered is whether you felt attracted to someone or not. And if you liked them.
Xander was definitely attracted to Spike. He'd admitted it to himself, and he was here to admit it to Spike, too. He couldn't pretend the dreams didn't mean anything, especially when he found himself thinking about them all the time while he was awake, getting excited by them, jerking off thinking about them. So he'd eventually, after much angsting, admitted it to himself: he wanted to have sex with Spike.
And Xander had realized that he sort of liked Spike, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have spent so much time at his crypt last summer after Buffy died. And he wouldn't have gotten along with him so well when he had amnesia, when he was just dealing with Spike as he was now, rather than holding his whole past against him.
Because, really, the stuff he'd said when he hadn't remembered anything had been pretty accurate. Spike had been working with them for more than a year now, taking care of Dawn, saving their lives, fighting the good fight, and he deserved to be treated like a person because of it. He deserved to be treated like a friend. Or more.
Funny that it had taken Xander losing his memory to get him to see it.
Now he just had to wait and see whether Spike would see it, too.
When Spike arrived home just before sunrise, Xander was giggling at an old episode of "Remington Steele." When he saw Spike, Xander gestured at the television screen and slurred, "Y'know, Pierce Bros'an 's really hot. Mebbe 's the English accent."
Spike stood motionless in the doorway, eyeing the boy warily. "What're you doing here, Harris? And why's my crypt stink like a brewery?"
Xander held up the partly-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. "Dutch courage!" he exclaimed loudly. "Figger'd you'd be mad. Needed a li'l drink t' help me out."
Spike raised an eyebrow, noticing the empty beer cans around Xander's feet. "Looks like you've had more than a 'little' drink."
"Dutch courage. Hey, wha's tha' 'bout? 'M not Dutch. D' Dutch people drink 'lot? They real courageous? Neve' heard o' them bein' particlarly brave. Mebbe only when'ey drink? Iss tha' why's called 'Dutch courage'?"
Spike eyed the boy dubiously. "What're you rabbiting on about, then?"
"Been thinkin' alot, an' I wan' you t' fuck me, Spike. 'S why I came. You said you wan'ed me t' beg, so I'm beggin'. Fuck me, Spike. Please?"
Spike's eyes narrowed as he frowned. "You're pissed out of your mind. You've got no idea what you're talking about. Not to worry, though. Come morning, you'll be right as rain, all filled with disgust and righteous indignation again."
"But..." Xander looked lost for a moment, then glanced down at Spike's crotch. "You wan' me t' suck your dick firs'? C'm'ere. Lemme suck your dick. I'll do it. Migh'not be any good, 'cause never done it before, but I wanna suck your dick. Wan' you t' fuck me. C'm'on, Spike. Don' be mad. 'M sorry 'bout before."
Spike sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Right. First it's amnesia, and now it's the drink. I'm not doin' this again, Harris. You can sleep it off and then toddle home when you can stand up straight." Spike took Xander's arm and tried to guide him down to the bed on the lower level. Xander staggered and nearly fell several times. "I'd toss you out now if you could walk, but I'm not carrying you all the way across town when the sun's coming up." He pushed Xander onto the bed, and Xander fell flat on his back, reddened eyes still watching Spike with an eager shine.
"Yeah. Le's go t' bed. I c'n do wh'ever you wan'. Jus' fuck me, 'kay? 'Cause you said you would, b'fore. Said you would. Said you wan'ed to. Donch'you wanna anymore?"
Spike looked down at the babbling kid and sighed. "Pet ... just ... go to sleep."
When Xander woke, his head was pounding and his mouth tasted like he'd been licking the soles of his shoes. He rubbed his hands over his face and opened his eyes.
Oh shit. Where the hell am I?
But then he began to remember the previous evening, though the memories were a bit hazy and distorted.
Did I ... Did I really beg Spike to fuck me? And he ... said no.
When he got upstairs, he was feeling decidedly sheepish. Spike was sitting in the chair, drinking from the bottle of Jack Daniels Xander had brought the previous night. The crypt was dark -- I must have slept all day. -- with only a few candles lit to supplement the blue light from the television.
Spike was watching "Wheel of Fortune" and shouting at the contestants. "Buy a bloody vowel if you can't figure it out, you stupid cow!"
Xander stood still and cleared his throat, not sure what else to do.
Spike sighed but kept his eyes on the tv. "Know you're there. Just givin' you a chance to sneak out quiet like. No conversation required."
Xander walked to stand near the television, looking at Spike, who did not meet his eyes. "So ... uh ... you've been making yourself pretty scarce lately. Haven't seen you since..." Since the shower. Since I remembered. Since my whole sexual identity fell into rubble.
Spike stared at the tv screen, as if waiting for Xander to leave. His voice was painfully casual. "Yeah, well, figured it'd be best."
"Best?" Xander kept watching him, but Spike's eyes never flickered toward him.
"Wasn't lookin' to get myself staked, that's for certain." And now Spike finally did look at him, defiantly, daring Xander to pretend that it hadn't been a possibility.
"I told you I wouldn't..."
"Yeah, and I saw your eyes when you remembered who I am. I know what disgust looks like. An' I know what it smells like, too. And you reeked."
Xander flinched guiltily. "It wasn't disgust ... well ... not at you..."
Spike was looking away again, staring blankly at the television. "Spare me the apologies, Harris. As long as you and your little Scooby pals aren't out to skin my hide, we're square."
"Yeah, square. We're done. It's forgotten. No need for discussion, eh?" Spike's eyes flickered to meet Xander's, and then away, back to the tv screen.
Xander shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Now came the difficult part. His voice was hesitant but determined when he began, "Well, except ... here's the thing ... see ... I had a couple of long talks with Willow..."
Spike sighed and looked at him impatiently. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. About lots of stuff. Like ... well ... you know ... she was into guys ... and now she's with Tara ... and there was this thing about ... she said this stuff ... about being attracted to people ... instead of being attracted to what's in their pants..."
Spike's eyes had narrowed dangerously. "An' what's wrong with what's in my 'pants'?"
Xander's face heated, blooming with furious color. "Nothing! It's just ... you know ... I used to be attracted to ... people with ... uh ... indoor plumbing ... and so ... the thing with the outdoor plumbing, it's just ... weird."
"You here to install a loo, Harris? 'Cause vampires don't need 'em. May as well be on your merry way."
Xander's exclaimed in frustration, "You know what I mean!"
"No, actually, whelp, I don't have a bloody clue." Spike's eyes were tired. Was he really so certain that Xander couldn't possibly be interested in him? Was that why he refused to understand? Or was he just being a pain in the ass? Xander decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. There's a first time for everything, right?
Xander licked his lips nervously before saying, "You said you could smell disgust. And in the closet you said you could smell ... uh ... arousal."
Spike arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Well, do I smell like I'm disgusted?"
Spike stared at Xander for a long moment, his eyes conflicted. Eventually, he looked away. "No."
"I think I was just sort of ... freaked out. I'd always thought I was Mr. Heterosexual, and then here I am, naked in the shower with a vampire's finger up my butt."
Spike grinned, unable to help himself. The kid was so blunt sometimes. Maybe a bit of it was left over from that new confidence he'd shown when he'd lost his memory.
Xander explained haltingly, "I think maybe you were right ... maybe I was sort of ... attracted to you, even before ... and so I acted like kind of a jerk..."
Spike snorted in amusement.
Xander looked offended. "Hey! You weren't exactly Miss Congeniality, yourself, mister!"
Spike only smirked in reply.
Xander crossed his arms and glared. "Can you blame me? I mean, you're slamming me every chance you get, calling me names, being a complete prick ... and, what? I'm supposed to take this as a sign that you like me? What is this, second grade?"
"Never said I liked you."
"Didn't have to. I remember everything from when I had amnesia, you know. You were ... we were ... friends. And ... more than friends. I can't pretend that didn't happen. I tried. A lot. There was much trying. And much talking to Willow. And much dreaming. But ... uh ... we won't talk about the dreaming, because it's not important."
Spike looked ready to interrupt, his eyes twinkling with obvious desire to ask about something that embarrassed the boy. But Xander just launched into more babbling, if only to prevent humiliating revelations about exactly what he had been dreaming lately.
"Point is ... I guess ... when I didn't remember everything about my life ... I didn't know how I was supposed to feel ... I just knew what I felt then. I didn't remember what a fine manly specimen of heterosexuality I am. I was just ... me."
Spike was looking less defensive now, and he seemed to have entirely forgotten about the television. He watched Xander's face. "What're you trying to say, Harris?"
"Look ... I'm not asking you to be my date to the company Christmas party or anything ... but ... I was ... attracted to you when we were together ... when I didn't remember. And ... okay, yeah ... when we were in the closet, too. And I guess I'm ... interested ... in ... well ... exploring that. Uh ... if you are."
Spike smirked. "Liked you better last night, drunk off your arse."
Xander was startled. "What?"
"Last night, you just begged me to fuck you. None of this treacley self-image shite."
Xander's face had grown so red it was nearly purple. "Yeah, well, I asked and you said no. I was pretty drunk, but I do remember that."
"Well, then, ask again."
"Answer might be different, now you're sober."
"You want me to ... ask you...?"
Spike's eyes were serious when he said, "The way things ended last time, way I see it, you owe me."
Remembering Spike's hasty departure from the shower and apartment with Xander silently watching, apparently reeking of disgust ... Xander found that he could sort of understand where Spike was coming from. That had to have been humiliating. It wasn't surprising that he wanted a bit more proof that Xander really meant it this time.
"Spike ... I want to ... uh ... have sex with you."
Spike raised his eyebrows and scoffed, "That how you ask for it? Were a lot less stodgy last night."
"Why? What'd I say last night?"
"Begged me to fuck you. Even said 'please', all pretty-like. Said you wanted to suck my cock, too. Mostly, though, just kept begging me to fuck you."
"So that's what you want me to say?"
"Wouldn't mind hearing it again without all the slurring."
"Okay, well ... see ... I'm really hung-over right now, so I'm not feeling entirely well, and I need a toothbrush more than sweet life itself ... but ... when I'm less grungy and have maybe had a shower and taken some aspirin ... uh ... I'd like ... I want..."
Spike raised an eyebrow. He kept doing that. But it wasn't quite as annoying as it used to be.
"Spike, I want you to fuck me."
Xander ground his teeth. "Fine. Spike, please, fuck me."
"Well, since you ask so nice..." Spike stood and began to walk toward him.
But Xander quickly raised his hands to ward off the vampire, insisting quickly, "Wait ... no ... not right now! I need a shower."
Spike withdrew, nodding stiffly and sitting down in his chair again, turning back toward the tv, lifting the bottle to his lips again.
But Xander held out a hand and asked quietly, "Want to come with?"
When he closed the door to the bathroom behind them, Xander realized that this time everything was really different. Last time, he'd just taken off his clothes and climbed into the shower with Spike, not feeling particularly self-conscious. But now he knew who he was. He was Xander. Decidedly non-gay. Oft-rejected. Never particularly studly. Not big on the vampire lovin'. And did I mention non-gay?
So this wasn't just a shower. It was a sort of commitment to ... non-non-gayness. It was one small step for Xan ... one giant leap for gay kind.
"Look," said Spike impatiently. "You want me to just wait outside? Or ... maybe I should just get going. Head off home."
Xander met his eyes nervously. "No, I do want you to stay. It's just..." he broke off, glancing away again.
"You're looking a little on the green side. Don't seem much into this, now that it comes to it."
"Hey, this isn't easy, okay? I mean, (1) my head is killing me, perhaps literally, (2) you're a guy, (3) you're a vampire, (4) I'm me."
Spike only raised an eyebrow in response.
"When you were here last time, I didn't have 21 years' worth of manly identity to overcome, all right? I'm a little nervous."
Rolling his eyes, Spike said, "Just have a wash. I'll watch the telly. Don't really fancy knocking boots with a bloke who winces every time his head moves, anyway. Get clean, sleep it off. After that, you can figure out what the hell you want."
Xander stiffened at Spike's tone. "I know what the hell I want. I'm just ... getting what I want is another matter. And it doesn't help that you're being such a prick about the whole thing..."
"Thought you wanted my prick."
Xander's eyes widened at Spike's unexpected rejoinder, but then he burst out laughing. It broke the tension, and a moment later, still shaking his head and chuckling, he started unbuttoning his shirt.
When Xander woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he'd fallen asleep with the lights on. Luckily, the aspirin seemed to have done the trick and the brightness no longer threatened to cause his head to implode.
The second thing he noticed was that Spike was sleeping beside him on the bed, and had kicked off the blanket and sheet. He was on his back, and his pale body was entirely revealed, his muscles clearly defined even in complete relaxation. His abdomen and chest, in particular, were nearly hypnotic in their perfection.
He glanced up at Spike's face to see if he was still asleep. Yep. His head rested comfortably on the pillow, his eyes closed, his face as relaxed as his body. With all the gel washed out, Spike's hair had dried into soft, rumpled curls, and Xander wanted to touch it, to find out if it was as soft as it looked.
Not wanting to wake Spike, he reached up a tentative hand and very lightly stroked the blond locks, finding them even silkier than he'd thought. He grinned to himself, amused at how young Spike looked without his slicked hair and big-bad attitude. He looked almost like an entirely different person. More vulnerable. More approachable. Less obnoxious.
Both times they'd been in the shower, they'd both been naked, but Xander hadn't really gotten to take a good long look at Spike's body. He'd always been a bit ... distracted. So he took this opportunity to really stare in a way that would have embarrassed him if Spike was awake. Spike's body was so different from his: paler, slimmer, the muscles more sharply defined, the skin so much smoother. Xander knew how strong Spike was, but that strength seemed graceful and lithe, like a cat. He felt like a big hulking lunk in comparison.
When his gaze traveled down to Spike's groin, he became even more curious, and scooted down for a closer look at the cock that lay soft against Spike's upper thigh.
He'd never seen a penis this close up before. Heck, if I could get my face this close to my own dick, I definitely would have taken advantage of it. Probably wouldn't have left my bedroom at all during junior year. And, anyway, Spike wasn't circumcised, so it looked pretty different from the only cock Xander'd had intimate acquaintance with.
The foreskin was really strange-looking. Sort of like a little sock made out of skin. It barely extended over the tip of the penis. Xander tilted his head and peered in the hole formed by the edges of the foreskin, peering curiously at the soft cock hidden inside.
While he'd been looking, his own cock had been slowly stirring and rising. He was half-hard when he started thinking about the dreams he'd been having about Spike, started remembering the stuff Spike had said in the closet. In no time, his cock was all the way hard.
All alone like this, with no audience, not even Spike watching him, Xander felt considerably less embarrassed and less inhibited. Shooting glances up at Spike's sleeping face, he gently lifted the vampire's soft cock in his hand. There was no reaction. Spike was apparently a pretty heavy sleeper. Licking his lips nervously, Xander hesitated for a moment, and then leaned over and took Spike's cock into his mouth.
He sucked curiously, enjoying the feel of the soft skin in his mouth, then poked his tongue gently inside the foreskin to touch the smooth cockhead inside. Sucking more and exploring the texture of the skin with his tongue, Xander noticed the dick beginning to twitch and grow in his mouth. He glanced again up at Spike's face to see whether he was waking up, but his eyes were still closed, his expression peaceful.
His own cock was now aching, and so Xander moved his hips slightly, rubbing himself against the bed while he continued to lick and suck the cock in his mouth. He was now watching Spike's face continually, finding that seeing him made the act even more exciting. Eventually, Spike's cock had grown so large in his mouth that he couldn't hold it all, and so he held the base with his hand and slid his mouth up and down.
Spike had begun to tense and shift his weight, his hips thrusting slightly upward on Xander's down strokes. He was breathing now, too, occasionally making quiet mm'ing sounds in the back of his throat. Xander sucked harder, getting even more turned on as he realized that Spike was waking up, wondering what Spike would do when he realized what was happening.
When Spike opened his eyes, he almost immediately looked down, catching Xander's gaze, his lips parting on a surprised breath. Then his hands came up to gently rest on Xander's head, not pressing, but only smoothing his hair and cupping his skull as Xander continued his explorations.
Watching the shifting expressions on Spike's face, Xander continued to slide his mouth up and down on the vampire's hard dick. It was turning him on a lot more than he'd ever imagined, especially now that Spike was awake and watching. He occasionally stopped to explore the head with his tongue, curiously tasting the pre-come that was oozing out now. It tasted pretty much the same as his own did. He tried to remember all the things he'd liked when Anya'd given him head, so that he could try them on Spike.
When Xander stroked his hand up and down the wet shaft while sucking on the head, Spike groaned, his eyes closing, his head falling back on the bed. Spike's hips lifted again in small urgent thrusts, his fingers tangling in Xander's hair. Thinking about what he liked himself, Xander brought his other hand up to gently fondle Spike's balls while he continued sucking, sliding his mouth up and down again.
"Harder," Spike gasped.
Xander wasn't sure what Spike meant, and he knew his own balls were far too sensitive for any rougher handling, so -- rather than risk causing pain -- he just kept doing what he'd been doing, figuring Spike would be more specific if he wanted something different.
Yep. Only a few second later, Spike repeated, "Harder. Squeeze my balls harder." Xander nearly winced at the thought. But if that's what Spike liked...
Xander increased the pressure with his hand, but only slightly, not sure how far he was supposed to go. "Yeah," growled Spike. "Like that. Keep moving your hand. Feel 'em." Xander stroked his hand across the hairy skin, stopping to squeeze gently once in a while. The cock in his mouth seemed to get even larger, even harder, and it was leaking a lot more pre-come now. Spike's balls started getting tight and drawing up, and Xander knew he was getting close to coming.
But then Spike's hands on his head pulled him up, and Xander asked, "What's wrong? I thought you were liking..."
Spike was panting. "Don't want to come, pet. Not right now. Not yet. Want to fuck you first."
Xander's cock jumped at Spike's words. Okay. That's the plan? Okay by me!
"There lube around here somewhere?" Spike asked. Xander's cock twitched again. He nodded and gestured toward the bedside table, starting to move toward it. But Spike scooted across the bed and opened the drawer himself. Xander blushed.
"Oh ho!" cried Spike merrily, pulling out a thin black dildo. "Somebody's been experimenting, eh?"
Xander blushed even brighter.
"This a long-time habit, or only recent?"
Not meeting Spike's eyes, Xander mumbled, "Recent."
"Hey, nothing to be ashamed of. Probably make things a lot easier, truth be told. Got yourself all nice and ready for my cock." Spike dropped the dildo back into the drawer and took out a plastic tube of lubricant. Then he crawled on hands and knees toward Xander, smirking the whole way.
"That what you were thinking of when you were using that toy? My cock? All hard inside you, making you come? You think about me when you came?"
Xander whispered, "Yeah."
Spike encouraged Xander to rise up to kneeling, so that they faced each other on the bed, both on their knees, chest to chest, face to face, groin to groin. Spike squirted a bit of lube into his left hand and reached down between them to slick Xander's cock, squeezing it deliciously. "Mmm. Hard. Got you all hot and bothered, did it? Sucking my cock?" Xander nodded helplessly, knowing that Spike could tell it was true, anyway. The boner kind of gave him away. "Want to hear you say it," Spike purred.
"I ... I liked sucking your cock," Xander replied hesitantly, still a little embarrassed.
"What'd you like about it?" Spike stroked Xander's cock a bit faster, squeezing a bit harder, and Xander moaned in reaction, his hands coming to rest on Spike's shoulders to steady himself. Spike repeated himself, "What'd you like about sucking my cock, pet?"
"You were so hard ... in my mouth ... and your pre-come ... it tasted good ... and I liked how you thrust up at me ... and the noises you made..." Xander broke off uncertainly. Was he saying what Spike wanted to hear?
"There's a good lad. Tell me more." Spike took his hands off Xander's cock briefly to squeeze more lube, and then his right hand was on Xander's dick while his left hand moved around behind, and began gently stroking the sensitive skin of Xander's asshole.
Xander groaned quietly and spread his legs a bit. Then he said distractedly, "I'm not a 'lad'. I'm 21."
"Compared to me, you're still a tot." A smooth, slick finger slipped inside Xander, and he groaned again.
Xander breathed unsteadily, "You usually do this with 'tots'?" The finger was moving inside him now, making it difficult to think. He closed his eyes, panting quietly.
"No. Don't generally do it much with blokes, either."
That caught Xander's attention. He opened his eyes again, looking into Spike's steady gaze. "Really? But you have ... before..."
"Vamp's gotta have some secrets, don't he?" Spike's hand on Xander's cock had slowed to only the slightest, slowest movement, but it still felt incredible. The finger in his ass continued to move slowly, opening him up, making him want more. A second finger slipped inside. His eyes fluttered closed again ... he couldn't help it.
His eyes shut, Xander tried to clear his mind, try to focus on the conversation. "At least don't call me a kid. It sounds all ... freaky pedophile guy."
"What'm I supposed to call you, then?" Spike's voice was all smirky again.
Xander frowned slightly, opening his eyes. Yep. Spike was smirking. It was kind of irritating. "I don't know. I'm a man ... call me something ... manly."
"A man, eh?" Spike abruptly released Xander, his slick fingers all leaving Xander's body, and Spike turned over onto his stomach, raising his ass invitingly and throwing over his shoulder, "Give us a poke, then, manly man."
Xander gaped in confusion. "What? But I thought you were going to..."
Spike shrugged carelessly. "Yeah, but I've got nothing to prove. Sounds like we can't say the same for you."
Okay, this was getting annoying. "Hey, Mr. I've Got Nothing To Prove, big liar guy, what was all that stuff before about how nobody wants you around? Sounds like you have something to prove, too."
Spike grinned. "Anything I needed proved was taken care of when you begged, so I'm set..."
"Right. I begged," Xander agreed. "And now you're not following through."
Sitting up, Spike raised an eyebrow. "Hell, if you want it that bad..." He grinned.
Putting his hands on Xander, he maneuvered him until he was kneeling on hands and knees in the center of the bed. Spike knelt behind him and pushed his legs apart a bit, then reached through to stroke Xander's flagging cock, which immediately hardened again.
Xander felt terribly exposed in this position, with Spike behind him where he couldn't see.
"Lord, but you've a lovely bum!" Spike said, gently biting Xander's right butt-cheek. Xander jerked in surprise, trying to turn to look. "No. You stay still. We'll have you ready in a jiff."
And then the two fingers were in his ass again, and Xander groaned aloud, his head dropping to hang toward the bed. When, after a few minutes of that, Spike slipped a third finger inside, Xander started breathing heavily, his cock throbbing without even having been touched. "Christ ... you're so tight. You're gonna love this. Think you're ready?"
Xander nodded jerkily. "Yeah. Please?" He'd never felt this turned on in his entire life. It was like every nerve ending in his body was focused on Spike, on how Spike was touching his ass, on wanting to have Spike inside him. He instinctively arched his back, raising his butt a little higher.
And then the fingers were gone, and Spike was doing something -- probably putting lube on his cock -- and then a hand was on his hip, and something smooth and slick and big was pressing against him, against his hole, beginning to stretch him open. Spike pushed on Xander's hip, angling him foward slightly, following him with his own body, but his cock was still hovering there, just barely pressing against the opening. "Now you lean back, pet. Push yourself back onto me."
Xander slowly pushed back toward where he'd been before, but this time there was a cock in the way, and it didn't move. He moved back onto it, impaling himself so very slowly, and it was big, a lot bigger than the dildo, but it didn't really hurt, not much, not in a bad way, not as long as he went slow. He rocked forward and back in tiny movements, and each time it slid in a bit further, making him groan every time.
Spike's voice was intense, maybe even shaking a bit, when he panted, "That's right, pet. Get used to it. Get used to my cock. Been wantin' me to fuck you, yeah? Been using that toy, pretending it's me? It's the real thing now, pet."
Both Spike's hands were on Xander's hips now, but he wasn't trying to move him. He was just letting Xander move back onto him at his own pace, though the hands occasionally tightened their grip when Xander slid back to take a bit more. It wasn't long before Spike's cock was entirely inside Xander's body, and they both paused, breathing.
Spike's first few thrusts were slow, careful, testing whether Xander was really ready. But when Xander just eagerly pushed back to meet him, Spike held his hips tightly and began to thrust a bit faster, pushing himself deep into the boy's body with every stroke.
Xander gave a slight twist to his hips each time he met Spike's thrust, grinding back against him, and the movement made them both gasp. This time it was Xander who muttered, "Harder!" and Spike who obliged, holding Xander's hips so tight that his fingers would probably leave bruises. But Xander didn't notice. All his attention was on Spike's cock pumping inside him, feeling even better than he'd imagined, filling him up and stroking him on the inside the way his hands had stroked his cock on the outside.
He felt like he was getting close to coming, even without a hand on his cock. He wished he had a free hand to pull on his dick, though, because he knew from his masturbation experiments that the combination of sensations would make everything even more intense.
He'd no sooner thought that than he felt Spike rest one hand on the small of his back and reach the other hand down and around, wrapping his fingers around Xander's cock and squeezing. Xander bucked, moaning low, feeling himself speeding toward orgasm as Spike continued stroking him inside and out.
"Oh god, Spike," he groaned. "I'm gonna come." He was pushing his hips back to meet Spike's with a slap with each thrust, wanting to feel everything as intensely as possible before it was over. "Oh god," he moaned. "Oh my god."
And then he couldn't say anything, because Spike's hand was fast on his dick, and Spike's cock was hard in his ass, and fireworks were going off somewhere, because he was exploding, and it was the best orgasm he'd ever had. He was entirely lost in it, couldn't make a sound, frozen in absolute pleasure. For a moment, he thought he might lose consciousness. His legs shook, and he nearly fell over, but instead he weakly collapsed his face and arms onto the bed, where he lay dimly aware of Spike's continued, furious thrusting into his still-raised ass.
Spike's muscles were straining, his legs trembling against the insides of Xander's thighs, as he rammed himself over and over into Xander's ass, his low moans growing louder until at last he came with a loud gutteral cry -- Ahhhh! -- his hands clutching Xander's hips hard, hard enough to hurt, pulling them to him roughly for the final few thrusts until he was spent.
When Spike released his hold on Xander's hips, they both flopped to the bed, lying panting and limp beside each other. Xander thought Spike's eyes looked a bit dazed. Maybe he hadn't known how good it would be, either.
I mean, I hope it was good. I thought it was good. Did he think it was good?
After a few moments, Spike panted, "Well, that was a bit of all right." Xander looked at him uncertainly, but when Spike grinned they both burst out laughing.
"I think I need another shower. But I don't know if I could stand up," Xander admitted.
But Spike's hands were on him again, Spike's arms wrapping around him and pulling him close. "Sleep for a while first, yeah? Can have a wash later." Xander lay his head against Spike's shoulder and put an arm around his waist. It felt surprisingly comfortable.
"You know, you're a really heavy sleeper," Xander said. "I was ... uh ... sucking you a long time before you woke up."
Spike snorted in amusement. "Was a bit knackered. Some drunk git was snoring in my crypt all day."
"Oh. Right. I'm sorry about that."
"Yeah, well, you've made up for it since then."
They both chuckled again.
"Go to sleep, Xander."
Xander raised his head up to stare at Spike's face in shock. "I think that's the first time you've ever called me by my name."
Spike pressed Xander's head back down to rest on his shoulder again. "Bollocks. Call you 'Harris' all the time."
"My first name, moron," Xander grumbled, not really feeling particularly grumbly.
"Suppose we're on a first-name basis now, aren't we?"
Xander rolled his eyes, then shifted position slightly, settling against Spike. When he'd just started to drift off, Spike asked, "So what was that earlier about me not hobnobbing with the bricklayers' wives at the annual yuletide soiree?"
"Shut up, Spike. Go to sleep."
"Fine. Just use me and cast me aside like an old shoe."
"You are not a shoe, Spike. Go to sleep. I'm tired."
"Suppose you would be, with the thorough rogering I gave you. You know, now that I think on it, the chip never fired. Wonder why. I know some of that must've hurt you a bit."
"Maybe it works on intent? Or ... uh ... maybe it was because I ... liked it?"
Spike smirked arrogantly. "Hmm. So you liked me hurting you, eh?"
"Spike, you're the one who said we should get some sleep." Xander was blushing again.
Spike rolled his eyes and relaxed against the bed, and against Xander. "Right. We can talk about the rogering -- and the pain -- when we wake up."
Xander just shook his head and sighed, beginning to give up on getting any sleep with Spike around.
"Sleep, Xander." -- Xander grinned at Spike's use of his name again -- "Need to be well-rested for all the buggery I've got planned. Not to mention we've still got an occupied Army base to investigate. Come to think on it, there's this closet we could hide in..."