The ancient fan grinding to a gradual halt wakes Xander up.

He's been sleeping fitfully all night. It's the heat. Sunnydale in August is hot and humid and there's no air conditioning in the basement, nothing to move the air around except the fan. Now dead.

Xander is sprawled across the bed, spread eagled so as much of his skin is exposed to the now still air as possible. He's kicked the sheets away in his sleep. His boxers stick to his thighs, his hair sticks to his forehead and feels like a furnace on the back of his neck, and it seems like everything in the world is sticking to something. And he's pissed in a sleepy, petulant way because he's tired and wants to go back to sleep, but the air is so heavy and hot and every breath only makes him more aware of his discomfort.

He knows there's another fan down here somewhere buried under last year's garage sale rejects, the things no one wanted to pay even a dollar for. He could get up and find it. But that would mean actually getting up, which mean actually waking up and damn it, he's tired.

There's a rustle of movement but Xander determinedly keeps his eyes closed. If he doesn't open them he's not awake and the chances for tricking himself back into sleep are excellent.

The fan makes tiny ticking noises that almost disguise the other basement noises. A creak of the chair. A soft sound like a sigh. A whispery noise, like the sound cellophane makes when you crinkle it and hey. Xander knows that sound.

And Xander's lips want to smirk. Really want to smirk because this is awful and funny at the same time.

Jerking off. Spike. Undead, and jerking off. Probably using the back issues of Penthouse that also hadn't made the cut at garage sale.

So maybe it's not fair to want to laugh at Spike for practicing Xander's favorite pre-Anya pastime. But he can't help picturing Spike's face contorted in a goofy 'I'm going to come' grimace and he knows his lips twitched. The harder he tries not to smile, the more his lips demand that he do exactly that, but Xander knows once he gives ground on the smile, the laugh will demand equal time.

And okay, laughing at Spike is not of the bad. A small part of Xander likes having someone around to be laughed at. But another part of, the part listening intently to each sound, is too embarrassed to call attention to the fact that he's awake. Has been listening and hasn't said something, hasn't rolled over or shifted or done anything to alert Spike that he might just have an audience here.

The smile is still hanging in there, gamely trying to break free, but with every little sound, soft and slick, it's beaten back. Because the mental face Spike wears now isn't goofy at all. It's hard. Intent.

He can hear each stroke clearly now. Long. Slow. Lingering. It's then Xander realizes he's not hearing something. No rustle of pages turning. Spike must've found a doozy of a picture, then.

It doesn't take much effort at all to recall some of his favorites. They were all pretty much the same, when you get right down to it. Long legs, big tits, clouds of silky hair and perfectly pink, moist pussies. Airbrushed perfection, yeah, but beggars can't be choosers.

Spike can't be too choosy tonight because there's still no paper noises.

Right on the heels of this thought Xander realizes his cock is wide awake too. And his fingers are twitching, just at the tips, like there was something of great interest they really wanted to investigate.

Somewhere right after that thought, Xander realizes he's forgotten all about falling back to sleep and is instead listening with unnatural, maybe even perverse, intensity to the sound of his undead houseguest jerking off. Still just as slow. Maybe not even jerking off. More like caressing. Fondling. Like it feels good, so good it can't be rushed.

And suddenly Xander wants to see.

He slits an eye open, just the smallest crack, so small his lashes obscure his view. And the first thing he sees is Spike's cock. The head of his cock, slightly less pale than the fingers wrapped around the shaft just below.

Spike's long, white fingers gently pull. His thumb strokes over the head, swipes up a drop of pre-come and brings it down to the fingers. Slick, shiny fingers and suddenly Xander swears he can smell the Vaseline underneath the scent of his own sleep sweat.

And he's aware that he's inhaling just as intently as he's listening and watching and he wants to hold his breath, but then Spike's fingers stroke down and his hips thrust up a little and Xander can see oh everything.

Hard, shiny and different. Not circumcised.

He's staring. He knows he's passed the point of being able to ignore that he's staring at another man jerking off, another man's cock. He's watching as Spike's fingertips circle the base of his cock while his hips gently rock and Xander swallows. Hard.

Because there is no magazine.

Xander glances up to make sure, but he already knows. Spike is looking at him. Jerking off and looking at him.

Time to look away, time to do something. Xander takes a breath and--

"I know you're awake, Xander."

Soft, quiet voice and for a second Xander thinks he's imagined it, because Spike's hand never stops and his gaze doesn't even touch on Xander's face but then, "I know you're watching me."

He can't know, Xander thinks. Can't. Maybe this is Spike jerk off fantasy number 9: Talking dirty to the sleeping boy.

So he doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't close his eye. Just keeps peeking at Spike's face and yeah, his brain was mostly right about that. Still human. Eyebrows slightly knit in concentration, eyelids heavy. Mouth slightly parted and moist, like he'd been staring at Xander, at Xander's cock --which is now obviously hard, obviously straining against the front of boxers-- and licking his lips. And yeah, yeah, there's Spike's tongue, pink tip delicately running over his upper lip. Quick cat lick, then the lower lip, a little slower, lingering at the corner and Xander flushes when he realizes he's doing the same.

And maybe Spike does this all the time. Maybe he looks at Xander every night and Xander's breath hitches as he swallows.

Maybe he does more then just look. Because Spike gives his cock one last stroke, gets up and walks over the bed. Cock swaying with each slow, measured step and--

And Xander can't even pretend to be asleep now, because his eyes open wide when Spike tiger crawls over the bed. Xander doesn't move, doesn't even breathe when Spike places a hand on either side of his head and smiles down into Xander's face.

"Got an eyeful then, did you?"

Not looking down, nope. Except it would seem he is indeed looking down and is going to say something witty and cutting like, "Get off me, you fuck" but what comes out is an appalled, fascinated whisper. "You're getting me wet."

He can't tear his gaze away from each steady drip of pre-come as they land on the front of his boxers, swears he can feel them, cool and slick, seeping through the thin cotton and onto the head of his cock. And still remains motionless when Spike looks down as well, the top of his head brushing Xander's cheek and mildly says, "Yeah. I am."

Then Spike, still looking down, flexes his hips and drags the tip of his cock over the outline of Xander's. Watches as Xander's cock twitches in a decidedly interested manner. Murmurs, still without looking up, "That is so fucking sexy, Xander. Do it again."

And Xander shudders when his cock doesn't so much twitch as it jumps and okay, enough is enough, even though the turned on against his will kind of thing seems to be just fine and dandy with his cock.

He grabs Spike's hips to push him away and the first thing his dazed mind can process is the sensation of cool. Cool, smooth skin and his mouth lets out a surprised sound, an oh sound.

And he's not pushing away so much as holding Spike still and that makes Spike look up.

Pinned there under him, hands on his hips and Spike looking at him with one eyebrow raised, waiting and this is where he's supposed to say 'Get off'.

But his skin is so cool and Xander's fingers don't seem interested in anything but touching it. So soft and cool and he's not pushing, not holding but stroking. Exploring, even and he should stop, he should stop.

And Spike's eyes get heavy and he makes an unintelligible noise and his hips move like silk under Xander's fingers and… Not stopping.

The slide and press of Spike's cock, rubbing, wet and cool, and his hand is curling around it.

Cool.

Slick.

Heavy.

Long and thick.

And now the idea of stopping seems very far off now because all of Spike is pressed against him now, absorbing the heat and his face is buried in Xander's neck. Licking and mouthing and growling. Even his tongue is cool and suddenly Xander is overcome by the thought of how that tongue might feel on his cock and he knows. He's not stopping.

Thick, heavy cock in his hands, warming slightly as his strokes speed up and there are words under the growls, harsh and panted into his ear.

"Yeah. Yeah, just like that."

"Shut up." Muttered fast "Don't talk, okay? Just…just let me."

Soft chuckle, cool, wet lick right on his pulse and, "Fine. Just don't stop."

And he can do that, is not going to stop, no. Arches his neck and rocks his hips into the back of his hand. Glancing, unsatisfying touches and he has to bite his lip, but the words get out anyway. "Touch me."

A low groan and a bite that almost hurts, then a shift and oh. Jesus. Cool fingers pushing his boxers down, then wrapping around him. Pulling and he doesn't even care when Spike mutters, "Like that, do you?"

"Yes." Slim, dexterous fingers expertly jerking him off, like Spike knows, like maybe he's watched Xander when he was supposed to be sleeping and this time, on a groan, "Yes."

"You're such a little slut, Xander."

And maybe that's fair, but, "You started this. You were…you were looking at me."

Long, lingering stroke and, "Yes."

Xander bucks, hard. Tries to force Spike's hand into a faster rhythm and growls when the slow, even tempo remains unchanged. "Why?"

"Because you're pretty," and no time to protest before Spike lays the flat of his tongue against the side of Xander's throat and doesn't so much lick as drag it up over his throat, his stubbly jaw and cheek and it's freakish and a little disgusting and too fucking hot for Xander to do more than jerk Spike a little harder, a little faster.

Reflex motion almost, this is what he wants to do to his own cock, but his hand is suddenly too stupid to know the difference.

"Oh, that's it, pet..."

"Don't --"

Another lick and Spike stroking a little faster and Xander's brain is like this balloon with a long, slippery string that he can't seem to hold on to and "I know you don't want me to talk, but I think I'd like you to know exactly who you're fucking."

And oh fuck. Surging helpless, ragged motions on Spike's cock before he can control himself because oh. That image. Spike, naked on his belly, lean strong back and Xander remembers exactly how smooth it looked... tracking device whiskey something something --

Shuddering and trying to get some control back. Opens his eyes and that's a big mistake because Spike is watching him. Grinning into his face like... well, like a demon. Like a demon who knows exactly what Xander is thinking. Right on time -- in the sense of being much too late -- his brain suggests that this could be a bad idea.

And then Spike is kissing him, devouring him, and Xander doesn't know if the kiss is different or if it's just that whole, hey, he's a vampire thing that some part of his mind is undoubtedly screaming madly about and hand knocked away and press

Skin to so much fucking skin. Cool and dry and Xander wants it to be as hot and slick as he is and his cock is doing its part, working up and up against Spike's. Sweet fucking friction and he knows he's moaning around Spike's tongue but he can't think of anything to do about that.

Spike's hands finding his and disentangling and oh fuck yes, more skin, forgotten skin, acres of it and Xander spreads his legs before he can think and the sounds... Slick sliding skin, his own sweat making it smooth and oiled and necessary and Spike just... just fucking driving against him and Xander driving right back and he knows he won't last can't last but he can't slow down.

Spike won't let him slow down, growls when he tries, grabs Xander by the wrists and holds and thrusts and it's so good.

Broken kiss and Spike buried at his throat just growling and getting angry. Xander can feel it in every millimeter of skin and he feels mean and he feels free and he rubs and rubs his throat against Spike's hard face and when he cries out Spike saves him with a hand over his mouth and he shoots.

Groaning steady against Spike's hand and jerking and jerking until it's over and then falling back, slumping back and oh. God. Spike still on him.

Spike kneeling up over him, watching. Cock arching toward his flat belly. Stroking himself slowly and watching. And just when Xander's breathing finally starts to slow: "Look at my cock."

Which is... "Wha?"

"Look at it."

And, OK, Spike kink. Catering to Spike kink but he's looking. Genuinely rosy head. Cock paler than it should be to be that hard, but yeah, that's the thing... that's the dick he's been stroking and thrusting against. Weird, distanced ache in his palm, like Spike branded him there. Or like his hand wants to be back where Spike's is.

On that's really kind of big... cock. Testing it in his mind, the way Spike says it that makes it even dirtier, even simpler. And yeah, he's looking at it.

Licks his lips and tries to shake it off and when he looks up Spike is almost glaring at him. Somewhere between rage and glaze-eyed lust and Xander... licks his lips again..

Watches Spike wince, his hand judder slick over his own cock.

"Do you want this, Xander?"

"Oh..." Because... that's what... wondering how long his mouth has been open like this. Tearing his eyes away from Spike's just gives him the look of lean muscled torso, dark hard nipples. Smooth white skin and gently pumping hips. Spike's rock hard cock.

"Do you want me to come in your mouth?"

And shaking his head violently but his cock twitches, betrays him. Bad, mean, stupid cock and this means... this means he has to, doesn't it? With nothing like reason, just the feeling low in his belly as clear, thick pre-come leaks from the head of Spike's cock, foreskin bundled back away from it and and.

When Spike reaches behind Xander's head, when he buries his slick fingers in Xander's hair and holds him still, when he rests the head of his cock on Xander's lower lip. When. Oh.

Taste exploding in his mouth as Spike pushes in, as Xander opens wide and his mouth is so wet. He's drooling like a baby at a nipple, has to suck and he does. Sudden, graceless and Spike makes a noise.

"Ohh, good lad. Just for that you can have some more..."

And his brain has nothing for him, his brain is on vacation and his mouth is being stretched much too wide and oh... Spike stroking his face, whispering things that make Xander blush. Good and pretty Xander and his tight, hot mouth and there's about six miles of cock to go when Spike bumps up against the back of his throat and Xander is breathing fast through his nose, too fast, and it's all making him dizzy and shivery and so hard.

"Shh, shh... oh, that's right, pet. Use your tongue. You're a virgin to this, aren't you? That's so... oh. Oh, yes, that's so sweet."

Wet, wet noises and he knows he's the one making them. Slurping and sucking and licking frantically because... because oh God, he has to. Gets his clumsy hand up around the base of Spike's dick and pumps while he's sucking and he can see himself from outside, see himself pumping Spike's dick into his mouth and drooling around it and Xander's whimpering and Spike's hushing him and there is no part of Xander that doesn't need to be touched

And there's no way he can say that even if there wasn't a cock in his mouth but he tries. Sucking harder and pumping faster and Spike isn't stroking him any more. Spike is tensed all over and Xander suddenly knows how badly Spike wants to just rape his mouth and knows it's only the chip holding him back and Xander wants to run and he wants to laugh at Spike and he wants to know how to do this, wants a way to swallow Spike whole and he's suddenly deeply aware of his ass.

Terrified now and Xander opens his eyes and Spike's are closed. Bracing himself on the wall with one hand and holding Xander's head still with the other and biting his own lip and drawing blood with his fangs. Blood dripping down his chin and it falls on Xander's cheek and it's just as cool and thick as everything else and he can see what it would be like, jammed up hard against wherever Spike pressed him, sucking and sucking. Just like now because oh because --

"So good..."

And Xander's mouth is numbing here and sore there and he can't help begging Spike to come, groaning around his cock and when Spike opens his eyes again to look Xander pleads with his own.

"Fucking gorgeous --" Hiss to a long, low growl and Spike is coming, thick and room temperature and Xander swallows and chokes when Spike suddenly slips in for a heartbeat that makes Spike curse and shoot another jet of come and Xander swallows what he can. Lets the rest ribbon out of the corners of his mouth and he feels... Profoundly used.

In a not-bad way.

In a sick, horrifying way that is somehow not bad.

Part 2

Spike kisses him and Xander tastes blood and smoke.

Spike licks him clean, then wipes at him with the corner of one of Xander's pillows. Kisses him again and Xander can respond a little better and he does and... it's an after-sex kiss. Just like any other. Grateful and lusty but not hungry. Long and wet and Spike is grinning.

Glance ticking over Xander's face with something like... acquisitive glee and this is very, very bad. And he's wracking his brain for something, anything to say that is simultaneously polite, horrified, grateful, and regret-this-can't-happen-again-ful when Spike messes up the whole works by kissing him again.

His cock is still way too sensitive but, yes, he's definitely half-hard and growing.

And the refractory time for vamps is apparently nil.

"Um."

"Yes, Xander?"

"You're going to use this to ruin my life, aren't you?"

Lazy grin. "Look at it this way: the way your life is going, a bit of ruination might just be the best thing for everybody."

"By everybody you mean, of course..."

"Me."

Xander sighs. "Of course."

A pause and Spike is shifting, moving in the sticky mess between them, small motions just short of actual thrusts that make Xander gasp and try to move them faster. "That's right, Pet. Forget your troubles --"

"C'mon, get happy? I bet there are about 6000 different species of demons willing to kill anything that quotes show tunes."

"You're the one that... oh, oh yeah there --"

"Fuck--" Spike pinching his nipples much too hard and the chip should be punishing him for it but Xander's body doesn't seem to be yelling 'pain' so much as 'yes.'

"Wanna do more than just hump you, Xander..."

And maybe if he doesn't say anything the thought will go away. Like if Xander just closes his eyes and turns his head and lets his body do all the things the big stupid slut part of him wants to do the thought will go away.

Because, well, more.

More could be a lot of things.

Like Spike moving away and the heat of the room just smothering him in something like wet wool, heat-scratchy and oppressive and he opens his eyes and Spike is looking at him again.

Hand swirling in the come on Xander's belly.

Hand up, palm toward him and Xander can see Spike's face between the shiny-slick fingers and it's just too normal. Just your average, every day, open-mouthed hungry half-sneering horny guy look. Watching Xander watch the hand.

"Spread your legs, luv."

"Why?" Deciding to try panic.

"Because I want to shove my fingers up your arse and fuck you so hard you see stars."

"Oh. Ohh fuck." And there go his thighs, fanning, shifting, because panic had nothing on direct and dirty because.

Because it was like a need Xander never knew he had and watching Spike grin and swoop in -- hand on one of his wayward knees and the other...

oh fuck

and the touch of Spike's fingers slicking, cool and wet down the band of flesh behind his balls brings Xander right up to panic again.

"W-wait!" Momentary clench of Xander's whole body, but it passes and when Spike looks up at him the grin is... smaller. Tighter. Infinitely scarier and his heart sends out a giant wallop of ice cold adrenaline to the rest of his body that screams Run. Message, sadly, not received. All his body does is hump up against Spike's hand and lose the rhythm of its breathing. The tight grin uncurls a little.

"Sure, pet," Spike says, but the fingers don't stop. Slide down and are then at his asshole. His least sexiest place and no one should ever touch you there and oh god, Spike's fingers circling circling and how does that happen?

Hands over his own mouth because he's making sounds again, kind of helpless gasping sounds because it's almost like being tickled but not really and what it really makes him want is more. Humping down and trying to get --

Spike's other hand, pushing his leg a little too far -- not quite pain but he can't move now and it makes his hips aggressive in their trapped-ness.

"How long d'ya want me to wait, then?" And ohhhh it's such a fucking lie because the fingers keep slipping, round and round and in, just a flicker but it makes him jump and gasp. Makes pre-come strand and spatter against his thighs.

"F-fucker."

"That's the plan." And it's more the smile than the words that hooks him for another helpless buck and oof the fingers in just a little more. Enough to almost hurt and almost feel bad but in such a good way that Xander can't get enough like this. He needs...

And blanks at the way his mind suddenly catches up with Spikes words and give's him a picture of both of them naked, Spike between his legs and fucking him -- the picture making his whole body spasm and he moans in stark, helpless, terrified lust and the fingers drive in...

And ohhhh it hurts but but but it ohhh it hurts so good and Xander is gasping, looking up at Spike -- face all tight with concentration, pain and ... oh! Game-face and Xander's body spasms again.

His body like this helpless out of control rubber thing with electricity shooting through it making it clench and unclench and oh fuck buzz. He's so hard, out of control hard and nowhere near coming yet and and Vampire. Vampire has him. Spike is doing this. Not helpless any more Spike, but William the Bloody.

Out of control psycho vampire on a little thin leash inside him and it's wrong wronger wrongest but he actually can't tell if that's fear shooting through him now. Because it feels so good.

"Yeh," Spike says. Growls. So tense. Intense. Inside. "Feels good, don't it.. Gets better." Xander bucks. and in and owww.

Pain again. Knife pain and and it's not really getting better, really getting worse and Xander can't spread his knees any wider. Spike is wedged somehow, hissing against his own pain and why doesn't it make him stop. Please stop please -- and then a shift and don't stop and oh christ, like crying, Xander wants more but he doesn't know what more even is or could be because it hurts --

"Relax" and from nowhere Spike's hand is on his cock and pumping. Pure silver shot of pre-orgasmy goodness and Xander's body doesn't relax so much as melt and Spike drives in and something breaks, Inside and absolutely painless, something breaks. Open.

Shivering echo in the quiet. He'd yelled. And they were... they were waiting, listening for footsteps on the creaky floor upstairs. For the knock on the door. All Xander can hear is his own heartbeat, not so much as sound but the thunder of it inside him, all his pulse points. Around Spike's fingers.

Which are moving again. Just a little. Wormy. Twisting. Slick. It's so awful Xander wants to writhe away from it, but when his hips move it's so good he makes animal noises. He shoves his own wrist between his jaws to muffle the sounds.

And that works great on the noise problem but now he sounds more helpless and breathily victim-y and why is this good? Well. Okay. He can see why it's good for Spike. And what's good for Spike is getting transmitted through Spike's fingers and flash --

I am Xander's Prostate. I am a happy thing. And please Spike, hold my legs so I don't thrash too much while you flash!...

flash! flash! Life is a snapshot. I'm going to come, Spike. Is that okay?

But he doesn't come, Spike's fingers pull out and oh he's as empty as he knew he'd be and Spike's hand on his belly again (and it's Spike's hand that feels warm, his belly cold) and sliding back in, slicker, colder -- just a fingernail of pain this time and up into the sweet broken part and flash!...

"--nderrrrr. Beautiful... like this. Fucking hot. Going to fuck you now, pet. Say you're ready."

"Ready..." Just an echo. He can't imagine what ready means. Can't imagine anything beyond exactly what is happening. Fingers leaving again. Spike shifting (and he knows, the part of him that can't lie to himself for even one second knows and records meticulously -- Spike slicking himself -- fast, merciless strokes on his cock that is way too big to fit into any part of Xander; Spike shaking himself, shaking his head and shaking off the game-face like it was water or clay or -- pushing Xander's knees back and up, kind of rolling him up to make him open and he can't breathe -- which is just fine, just good and Spike is over him now, balanced one handed and intense and there's the nudge of Spike's cock at his ass.

Just a nudge but he's so soft there now, so ready Spike just sinks in. Sinks in maybe a whole quarter of an inch and then there's just no way... no fucking way... it hurts. Xander tries to pull back but rolled up he just can't do anything but buck. Buck more of himself onto the huge, blunt rod that wants...in.

Yelling again and Spike's hand is back on his cock and his body is so fucked up -- hot and cold and hurt and good and more, needs more. Wants past the pain, and --

"Let it -- let it happen, Xander. It's gonna happen. Let it..." Spike's voice is tight and all his weight held back and shaking but not letting up one ounce of pressure. Unbearable pressure all right there, right inside him, burning, coring at the place where he was broken open before. And he wants.

buck

"Yeh," Breathless. "Do it."

Spike rock hard and motionless now. Iron rod that he can batter himself onto, make himself soft and open for and letting go of everything, wanting that place that sweet sweet--

Spike is fucking him

Place. Shocked to sudden stillness by the breach. Slit and spitted and sudden painless slide of Spike whole to the root.

The fist that skins his cock almost a pale sparkling aftershock to this. And realizing with something like a shock that he's nothing like still. Jerking and whining under Spike's cool weight, Spike's slow, deliberate pull out and thrust. Fucking. Him.

"Spike!" Hoarse whisper of a yell.

Not even sure what he's trying to do. Urge him to hurry? Make it stop? Spike gives no answer but his continued steady fuck, eyes closed within game face and suddenly Xander has this sense, sense memory of slipping into Anya's body, and eleven hundred years of renewed demonic virginity, and struggling to hold himself back from all that heat and ruthless tightness and now... Spike feeling the same thing.

All this on the waves of vicious pleasure still wracking Xander, shuddering his skin into goosebumps even as he sweated high and musky and sex and Spike's hand on his cock is so and Spike's cock is inside him and Xander has to arch his neck up, has to buck more, and more because Spike isn't allowed to have control. Not here.

"Fuck. Catching right on, are we? Well... a good and smart lad gets --"

Yelling because while the upstroke was slow the down is fast and hard and reminiscent of pain and also just... and how is he supposed to keep hold to himself? It's an attack and Xander just wants more and he can't get a hold on Spike's smooth smooth skin and the cool of it is just another burn and his thighs are screaming and it adds to everything and Spike's eyes are open again.

Lambent yellow caught between Xander's own thrashing, closing and opening his eyes, blinking and shaking away the hair falling into his face and Spike's mouth is open and those teeth are awful long and Xander has to laugh.

Just laugh between choked sobs and buck up faster and the stretch of his smile is suddenly just another cord between his mind and his twitching, drooling cock.

Spike's hand slick shiny with pre-come and stroking and squeezing him and the rhythm is just beyond comprehension, Xander has to trust his body to respond because it's all too complicated, too much, heavy haze falling all over his mind leaving Xander and his body to fend for themselves.

Spike growling now, flat and animal and quietly intense and yeah, yeah not funny but somehow joyous to be able to do this to him, to make him growl and fuck him so hard, make him open inside, helpless and hot and yeah yeah maybe melting Spike inside him. Making him feel heat that must be unbearable, making him drive for it no matter what the cost and Xander's losing it, the threads of it, the control of it as his body breaks and rolls, breaks and rolls. Spike's hips snapping faster, too fast to feel as more than just a blur of need, random strokes hitting Xander where he needs it most.

"Fuck, Xander --"

And he wants to say something witty but all that comes out is something between a wail and a keen and

"That's oh that's so good..."

Spike tossing his own head, lacquered hair shaking free into unruly spikes and Xander wants to muss it further, wants to drag Spike down to just touch him and oh, he must have said that out loud because Spike leans down and in and the angle shifts are killing things, shooting load after load of pre-come, need to fuck and surrender and Spike's growl against his mouth and his hard, hard kiss and Xander yells into Spike's mouth and shoots hard and trembling.

And then Spike up again and just riding him, hips pumping much too fast and Spike scrabbling at Xander's chest, nipples, thumb on his pulsepoint and when he comes Xander's suddenly full to bursting.

Knows intellectually it's not that much, no big deal but it makes him flush even harder because there's someone else's come in his ass and it's slipping around and sleeking Spike's still hard cock inside, still hard and pumping and Spike's breathy little grunts and the twist of his nipple hurts and it's like an aftershock and it's like his cock manfully attempting to rise to the challenge and Spike won't stop.

Like, Jesus, even his fuck is Undead and Xander moans and tries to beg for it to stop but it's just more moans until finally Spike slows down, slower and slower until it stops entirely and Spike, bracing himself above Xander.

Eyes closed again, face human again.

"You can unfold your legs now, you know." Touch of breathless humor.

"I think I need a crowbar."

Snorted laugh and Spike is simultaneously slipping out and oh, fuck, dragging out what feels like Xander's entire set of internal organs with him and the sensation makes him wish two hundred year old vampires paused long enough for condoms.

Helping Xander unfold and Xander tries not to squirm and tries not to blush and fails utterly at both when Spike uses his t-shirt to wipe them both down --

"C'mon, Xander, part of the fun is the mess."

"Uh-huh. Let's hear you say that from the other end of things."

And Spike doesn't even pause. "Anytime, ducks."

Easy grin and Xander is flushing again. Wonders if blood gets tired from all that rushing around and wham the image suddenly hits. Spike, bent over something, working himself back on Xander's cock.

And the best Xander can come up with is "Oh."

Spike's smile is deeply wicked. Moreso. "Yeh. Now shove over."

"This is just your way of getting to sleep in the bed, isn't it?"

"Working, innit? Get the light."

Xander snickers, loses himself briefly in the feel of laughter, then just snickers some more. "You're closer."

"Lazy fucking mortals."

And Xander's snoring before Spike stops muttering.