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Chapter 13
“You did something different, pet.”
“Haircut.”
Spike came to him, sweeping his fingers through Xander’s
hair, messing up the tidiness, coming to a sudden halt as he
looked from Xander’s hair to his
face. Their eyes
met and held, and Xander could see the challenge in the depths
of the piercing blue: want
me. Spike leant in
so that the entire lengths of their bodies touched, letting
Xander’s strong form take the weight, and he nuzzled Xander’s
neck.
“You’re so warm,
Xan.
Hot.” His mouth
crept up to Xander’s
ear. “You’re so
damned hot.”
“For you,” Xander replied in the same provocative
tone. “Hot for
you. What are you
going to do about it?”
Spike pulled back to meet his eyes once more, searching for
the truth.
“Mean it, Xan.
Please mean it.”
Xander ran his hands over the vampire’s hips, up his
powerful back, feeling the anticipation in every
muscle. And with
that touch he knew he was lost, that there was no way
back.
“Have me. Take
me.”
“Oh, Xander…” Spike
groaned. “Cheers,
mate, I’m bloody starving.”
Xander shot up in bed with a cry of alarm as Dream Spike
vamped out and sank his fangs deeply into his
neck. Before now
he’d slept through being drained, and he didn’t want to go
there again. It
truly was a nightmare in every
sense. If his
subconscious was against his conscious self having the hots
for a vampire it certainly knew the appropriate aversion
techniques. Which
worked for all of thirty seconds.
In the spill of light from the hallway he could see Spike
staring at him in concern, one hand wavering between them as
if he wanted to comfort but wasn’t sure how to go about it.
“Bad dream,” Xander explained as he fell back onto his pillow,
holding out a welcoming arm and allowing Spike to come close,
head on his chest, hand sliding up under the t-shirt and
finding a heartbeat, fingertips circling over the skin in a
methodical
pattern. Felt
nice. Always felt
nice. But this
time it felt nicer as the hand slipped lower, roving over the
firm stomach, into the waistband of his boxers and…
Wake the fuck
up! Xander
forced his eyes open, dislodging Spike and turning onto his
side in an attempt to hide the persistent erection that now
seemed a full time addition to his
night. And not
just this night – every
night. They were
moving at the end of the
week. Maybe a
second bedroom would be a good idea, give Spike some space and
take the pressure off
himself. Spike
wouldn’t like it at first,
but…
Spike?
Spike hadn’t followed
him. Usually the
vampire took any amount of disturbance from Xander’s erratic
tossing and turning, always waiting for the human to find a
calm place before re-attaching himself like a devoted, purring
barnacle. But not
now. Which was
good. Less
contact, less arousal,
good. Nope, never
try to bullshit a
bullshitter. Not
good at all.
Xander glanced over his
shoulder. Spike
was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, a look of
intense concentration on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
Spike slid out of the bed and left the
room. Xander was
up in a second and
following.
“Spike? What’s
going on?” Xander
flicked on the living room light, finding Spike standing in
the middle of the room
looking… He
couldn’t decide.
Troubled?
Preoccupied? Not
an entirely happy
vampire. Spike
looked around and headed for the kitchen, opening the junk
cupboard and pulling a pile of odds and ends out, grabbing one
of the packing boxes and methodically sorting through the
assorted items.
“You want to do this now?” Xander
asked. No
response. The
clock read
one-twenty. “I
guess this is vampire time
though. I just got
used to you sleeping my
hours.” Spike
stopped what he was doing as quickly as he started, pushing
the box away from him and remaining kneeling on the floor,
head down, hands resting loosely on his
thighs. Xander
crouched beside
him. “Don’t you
want to come back to bed with
me?” He stroked
Spike’s cheek and felt the vampire lean into his hand as
usual. “Is this
move stressing you
out? Is that what
this is about? I
woke you up and
now…” Xander
sighed wearily.
“Come back to bed.”
Spike gave Xander a gentle push in the direction of the
doorway, indicating that he should go.
“Is that what you
want? Some time by
yourself?” There
was no answer, so Xander stood and left the room, getting as
far as the hallway before turning back and pausing in the
living room doorway, watching as Spike left the kitchen and
found one of his books before sitting on the
sofa. He flicked
through the pages without seeing, then apathetically pushed
the book aside, running an irritated hand back through the
rapidly growing hair which hung in loose waves around his
face. He went and
turned the radio on, keeping the volume down, wandering the
room as he listened to the slushy song that
played. Xander was
on the verge of returning to bed when the next song came on,
and he would swear that he and Spike reacted at exactly the
same moment, turning to stare at the player as if it had
magical powers.
‘Come into these arms again,
“You remember this?” Xander asked as he walked into the room,
crossing to where Spike stood
transfixed. “It’s
from a film we used to
watch. We used to
joke about it being our
song. ‘Love Song
for a Vampire.’
You looked like you remembered it for a second there.”
‘Oh, loneliness, oh, hopelessness,
Spike shook his head, but Xander wanted to believe the song
had touched him in some
way. And now he
came to Xander, sliding his arms around Xander’s neck and
holding on tightly, slightly
trembling. Xander
did what he always did at moments like this: held on equally
as tightly, shushing and whispering words of
reassurance. Spike
reciprocated with his usual action, nuzzling the human’s neck
as Xander swayed them to the
music. When the
song had been in context it was an unlikely end to a long hard
laugh at the expense of Keanu Reeves’
accent. Here and
now it was a poignant backdrop, and Xander recognised how
hauntingly beautiful the melody was, how appropriate the
emotions expressed.
Spike’s nuzzling became more deliberate, and Xander gasped at
a new sensation that shot bolts of electricity through his
hyped body. The
soft touch of the lips he was used to, but when those lips
parted and he felt the tongue on his flesh, the gentle scrape
of blunt teeth, he knew he had to stop
this. It was too
much, felt too good, made Xander think the things he knew he
shouldn’t be
thinking. Just
get him to stop, don’t push, don’t reject, just get him to
stop.
“Hey. Hey,” he
called softly, trying to get Spike’s attention.
Spike straightened up, blinking hard as he met Xander’s
gaze. Darkened
eyes flicked down to Xander’s mouth, and Spike leant in.
“Hey,” Xander said for a third time, jerking his head back
slightly.
“No.” Spike
stopped immediately, instantly contrite; his eyes were
downcast as he slid out of Xander’s arms, turning and walking
away, head ashamedly
bowed. Xander took
stock, tried to pretend Spike hadn’t been about to kiss him,
ignored his racing heart and fired senses, hoped his reaction
hadn’t been too
destructive.
Crossing to Spike once more he stroked his back with a light
touch, bringing his mouth close to the vampire’s ear.
“I’m not angry.
I’m not angry, do you
understand?”
Pause.
Nod. “You’re still
my Spike, my good Spike,
okay?” Nod.
William didn’t understand what had happened, why he had done
what he had done, what he was feeling, why Master had seemed
unhappy with him then reassured
him. But for a
moment it had been so intense, the desire for more contact,
the desire to be closer, the desire…
“Come back and dance with
me.” Hot hands
grabbed his and turned
him. “C’mon,
Spike.” His arms
were draped around Xander’s neck and the human pressed
forward, trying to catch Spike in the rhythm as he moved to
the music of the innocuous song that had followed
theirs.
“Dance? For
Xander?
Please? Pretty
please? With
sprinkles on?
Please, Spike,
pleeeeeeeeease. Be
my all-singing, all-dancing ancient treasure.”
Spike got it. And
he smiled broadly.
Almost laughed.
Xander’s heart flipped in time with his
stomach. He pulled
Spike close and hugged him, feeling a little dizzy, a lot
overwhelmed by what – who – he’d seen.
“Spike,” he
whispered.
“My Spike.”
…
An hour later and, although he’d managed to settle Spike down,
Xander was having great trouble getting to bed knowing who was
there waiting for him.
The vampire’s attempt to kiss him had been unnerving but the
smile had shattered
him. He had seen
his Spike in the twist of the lips, the glint in the eyes, and
it had been a breath-taking moment of
wonder. The
feelings he had convinced himself he could deal with, keep
buried away, were clawing their way to the surface, and
Xander’s desire for whole Spike, magnificent, strong, wicked
Spike, coursed through his
body. He had no
reason to believe that the Spike of now would reject him if he
should initiate a sexual relationship, but Xander knew it was
wrong. The vampire
was too compliant for him ever to be convinced there was no
coercion. Perhaps
coercion was too strong a term, but…
A thought sprang into Xander’s
mind. One
word.
Symbiosis. He
hurried to the kitchen, chose a sharp knife, carried on to the
bedroom via the
bathroom. Spike
rolled to face him, curious as Xander threw a towel onto the
bed – usually a towel indicated sore feet or clean hair – but
this was the wrong time and the wrong
place. When the
knife was tossed onto the cabinet Spike raised an
eyebrow. That
little gesture made Xander’s blood thrum; he stripped to just
his boxers and lay down beside the vampire, arranging the
towel under his left arm and reaching for the
knife. Without
hesitation he cut open the most recent scar; the blood welled
to the surface and he heard Spike gasp reflexively, saw the
inborn blood-lust cross his
features. This was
a fundamental part of Spike that no-one could take away,
nothing could
change. His Spike.
“Drink,” Xander whispered, voice shaking with
need. “Please,
Spike.”
As the swell of blood threatened to waste itself by trickling
into the towel Spike moved, vampiric speed enabling him to
capture the precious fluid with his tongue even as it raced
over the human’s
skin. The
demanding mouth fastened on the cut and drew; Xander moaned in
pleasure, body electrified, cock rigid in a
second. As his
hand moved to relieve the pressure he glanced at
Spike. A hint of
game-face was all the stimulation it took, and Xander came
hard, teeth biting into his lower lip as every muscle in his
body spasmed convulsively.
Xander teetered on the edge of blacking
out. Something
inside him was shouting that Spike could drain him and leave
him for dead without really understanding what had happened,
but oblivion was so
tempting. He could
stop hurting.
Just…fade…away.
It was the arrival of Spike’s cool body draping along his
entire side that pulled Xander
back. A joyful
purr permeated him, stronger than he’d ever experienced
before.
Spike. Happy, in
raptures, judging by the vigorous
rumbling.
Wriggling to get as close as possible to Xander’s
warmth.
Happy.
And…hard. Oh,
God.
Hard? For
him? Instantly
awake, wanting, Xander rolled, pushing the compliant
vampire onto his back, and even as he repeatedly told himself
to stop, he made his way down the fragile body, hiking up the
t-shirt to worship the undamaged areas of skin with prolonged
kisses, hands grasping the sweatpants and easing them down and
Spike, Spike…letting
him. Letting
him. Don’t do
this, don’t do this, don’t do
this… But he’s so
perfect, so beautiful, his
skin… Just a
taste, what I always wanted,
just…
Don’t.
Do.
This. Xander
glided his cheek over the hard flesh, turning his head to
brush his lips against the swollen crown, inhaling scent and
flavour. What I
always wanted.
Ridiculously slowly, ecstatically, he slid his mouth
over the vampire’s sturdy
erection. Spike
shuddered and twitched beneath him, responding to the
unrelenting attention from Xander’s mouth as the human
explored and experimented, hands coming to flutter over
Xander’s hair, shoulders, arms; fingernails digging sharply
into hot skin before contact was
lost. An elegant,
almost theatrical arch of the back and Xander felt a rush of
cold semen flood his
mouth. What I
always wanted.
He held it, savoured,
memorised.
Spike.
Swallowed, and Spike was a part of him, inside him, at
last. ‘I know
you, Xander. You’d
never take advantage of anyone, especially someone you
love.’
Reluctantly withdrawing, bewildered as to how something so
good could make him feel so bad, he laid his forehead against
a jutting hip
bone. Wrong,
wrong, wrong.
“I love you.
Spike, I love
you.” Fuck the
silence, fuck
it! He’d
wanted an utterance, a groan as the vampire reached his
release. For
God’s sake, Harris, be
honest. He
wanted words of
love. “You’re
everything to me.
I love you.”
After gently adjusting the vampire’s clothes Xander sat up,
feeling lost and
tearful. Bad.
Wrong.
“I have to…go clean up,” he said weakly, guiltily, too ashamed
to glance at the vulnerable creature he had so deliberately
used.
Taking the towel and knife Xander left the room.
William didn’t watch him go: he lay in absolute stillness,
arms thrown wide, head tilted back into the pillow, wallowing
in the amazing sensations that were almost too wonderful to be
real. The depth of
Master’s
affection.
Blood.
Pleasure.
Love. His trust
had not been misplaced: he had always known that Master would
choose exactly the right moment for the stirrings to be dealt
with, and tonight they had been nigh impossible to cope with
because of the constant and delicious scent from the
human. Alleviation
was sheer bliss.
The vampire shuddered as something basic within him unfurled
and expanded, something that whispered of safety and
homecoming. Abrupt
heightened awareness of the burning that constantly tormented
him, and William instinctively flexed his body; tiny spots of
blood appeared as splinters were forced through the surface of
his skin and
ejected. His
fingers scrabbled at his throat as he tried to grasp the tip
of the thick shard that had been brutally rammed into his
vocal cords, and after several frustrating attempts he had the
point between his nails.
Grip slipping
with the blood, eyes watering at the pain, he dragged it out
and lay panting as he stared at the substantial
chip. Another
shudder, deep and
massive. His body
delivered an unexpected burst of healing.
William waited expectantly, somewhat fearfully, for new
sensations, but the something basic receded, leaving him weak
and exhausted.
Wearily groping for the covers, he pulled them over his body
and huddled down.
The scent of Master surrounded him and he remembered and
loved. Sore but
contented, William took a deep breath, dismissed these new
occurrences and concentrated on his master, letting the
soporific effects of his gifts wash over him as he relaxed
into sleep.
Smiling. Seconds
before unconsciousness claimed him, a fractured wisp of sound
was lost in the night’s silence.
“Xander…” |