Chapter 7

{Spike's thoughts} <Xander's thoughts>

{God, the Watcher can bloody talk. And that warlock of his is just as bad when he gets going.}

{All that yack and still no sensible words of advice for the sex-lorn. Ah, what the hell, I was only really curious to find out what father-figure-to-the-kids Rupert thought of his boy's new tack. As if the Big Bad ever needed lessons in sexual technique from a bloody human - a body's just a body after all, regardless of its sex. .}

{Interesting buggers, though, those two. Gonna have to go back sometime, I've a feeling they could get quite entertaining - and that Ethan... what can I say? The man has... hidden depths. But, yeah, talk, ten things at once - have as much difficulty sticking to the topic of conversation as Harris - their last bit of bickerin' finished me but at least it gave me the chance to make me getaway while they were lost in the finer points of whatever. And I've made a small profit{ Spike grinned triumphantly, tossing Ethan's cigarette pack up and down in one hand as he strode down the darkened streets, feeling the reassuring bulge of Ethan's wallet in his hip pocket with every other step.

Arriving back at his crypt, Spike looked around and decided it was time for some housework. He drifted around for a while moving things from one pile to another and throwing several past-their-time belongings in to a pile for rubbish. As he moved unsystematically through his stuff he crowed with delight as he found the thing he was waiting to uncover.

Half an hour later, bringing the final conversation to an end he hit the 'off' button of the tiny phone and sank back in to the sofa, content with the outcome of his several calls. He drained the bottle of beer he had been sipping and carelessly threw it over his shoulder to land in the general area of the newly-designated rubbish pile. The cushions of the sofa again yielded a bottle of Tennessee's finest sippin' whiskey and, with a happy sigh, Spike raised the amber nectar to his lips and swigged. {sip, hell!{

"Decisions, decisions, time for decisions," he muttered. {okay, decision made, now to plan what to do next. After hours of yabbering all I really got was 'he's made his move, now you make yours'. Well, damn it, Harris's the one who's been hanging round gagging for it - why should I have to...? Oh, yeah, I did tell him I'd think about it. Huh, could be waiting for ever for him to find the bottle to come back here to ask me what's what, so I 'spose I'll have to go to him... Ho-hum, an evil, waiting-to-be-seduced-vampire's work is never done{

Xander bowed his head and sighed blissfully as the scalding water pummelled the aches and pains of a day's work out his neck and shoulders. Here, under the shower, was a time out-of-time each evening when the pressures of the day drained away and when he had yet to be concerned about facing another night on the Hellmouth.

Finally leaving the shelter of the shower, Xander roughly towel-dried his hair as he padded naked to the kitchen. The moisture pearled on his skin and he relished the slight chill along his body as the air dried him off. Towel slung across his shoulders, he threw a variety of packages in to the microwave and leaned back against the opposite counter, whistling softly and out-of-tune as he watched the clock count down. He was feeling relaxed and sanguine; what ever was going to happen concerning the bleached wonder would happen. After hours of worry throughout the previous night he had decided to decide that he was in a win/win situation. <If he comes across, I get laid and close-up and intimate with that gorgeous body. If he's not interested, I get to live a much safer life&glt; The 'not ' alternative seemed lame even to Xander but, even so, probably was more beneficial in the long run. <Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Xand-man, you might just believe it by the time you're dead and gone&glt;

As the micro's clock pinged to announce that another nutritional meal untouched by human hands and untainted by anything remotely related to flora or fauna was ready for consumption, Xander yet again shrugged off doubts and resumed his cheerful demeanour of optimism. Whatever, he was going to enjoy a quiet and relaxing night at home for once.

Sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa he prodded the TV remote and settled back to watch the Cartoon Network's finest as he ate. No sooner had he taken the first mouthful of what called itself chicken lasagne with country vegetables, than there was a ring on the doorbell. "Goghay," mumbled Xander prepared to defend, against all comers, his enjoyment of chopped-and-shaped-poultry goodness and this rare oasis of calm and tranquillity "Khm nu'in".

But his next mouthful was nearly shot across the room as a loud banging on the front door threatened to tear it off its hinges. Hurling muttered imprecations and colourful curses at whomever was out there wanting to be in, Xander had his hand on the door knob before he remembered to tug the towel from his shoulders and wrap it around his waist. Checking the spy-hole before opening the door, he stumbled back and whimpered. <mwaaagh, ophundaagh!&glt;

"Jeez, Harris, open the bloody door will you? I've only got eternity, don't sodding waste it."

Xander hastily combed his fingers through his hair, hitched the towel up, brushed his hands down the dark blue cotton terry cloth to smooth it out then bent over to pick it up from the floor. He wrapped it around himself more firmly. Then, not relinquishing his hold on it, used his other hand to open the door.

"You got problems with the concept of a door as an entrance?" The vampire stalked in, not sparing Xander a glance, and took up residence on the sofa, throwing his coat over the back.

"Huh, uh, what? Door?"

"Oh, and let's not forget the problems you've got with the concept of language as a form of communication, eh? Yes, the door, Pet. You know, using yours to let me in now; using mine to come in to my place, yesterday. Do you always need to be told how to use 'em? How do you get in here, if there's no-one to open the door for you?

"Oh, yes!" Spike was on a roll, "I can see it now, a Harris world-original, a voice-operated lock which, instead of reacting to your telling it to open the door, would have to tell you to unlock it and then come in." Looking pleased with this flight of fancy, Spike got serious with the remote he'd been playing with, settled back and threw a look over his shoulder at Xander, who was only now coming in to the room. "Grab us a cold one from the fri... igging hell! Do you normally answer the door looking like that?"

Xander felt a blush rising up his body - partly embarrassment, mainly reaction to the look in Spike's eyes as they roved up and down his body, which sparkled in places from water droplets still falling occasionally from his hair. <mwaaagh! Oh my god, this is it! Oh shit, I don't think I'm going to be doing the living-the-safe-life option. And I don't think it's going to be my decision at all! Oh shit. Clothes, gotta get some clothes. Oh shit&glt;

Tearing his gaze away from Spike's and grabbing at his last remains of cogent speech, he made for the bedroom, "Only when the manic dead can't wait two seconds for someone to answer the door before going directly to demolish," he managed heroically.

Heart racing, feeling as if all the breath had been just punched out of him, he closed the bedroom door behind him and with shaking hands grabbed some clothes. He hurriedly climbed into a pair of loose drawstring pants and was just pulling on a sweater when he heard the door open behind him. Stomach lurching, he mustered all his self-control, donned his cool façade and turned to face the intruder.

Spike, elegant and seemingly unruffled as ever, was leaning lightly against the doorframe, hand gracefully holding the door open. He seemed as if posed for a costume-drama scene; the sneeringly-sophisticated, barely-domesticated rake whose languid glance rips through the layers of culturally enforced sexual ignorance to lay bare, and release, the basest of animal cravings in the demurest and most innocent of young virgins.

Hands crossed in front of him, sweater only half-pulled down his chest, pants riding low on his hips, Xander froze. His breath caught in his throat as his lungs forgot what to do and his eyes widened in shock and carnality as they devoured the stark, predatory beauty of the man before him. For what seemed an age, he stood there still as a statue until finally he caught his breath and he started to tremble.

Spike stared back, relishing the sight before him. {Christ - Michelangelo's 'Dying Slave'. Fuck, he's beautiful... a Renaissance wet-dream{ Caught up with his image of seeing Xander emerge from a bondage of marble to a new freedom, Spike moved softly, almost reverently towards the dark-eyed, dark-haired youth still frozen in that achingly erotic pose. As Spike closed the distance between them he almost buckled beneath the weight of lust and desire in Xander's eyes. Completely unaware of his own body, his own posture, Xander's whole being was concentrated on the man walking towards him and Spike felt his last reservations about wanting the boy crumble to nothing. {just a body{

He reached out and gently took hold of Xander's wrists, pulling his arms away from his body. Never breaking eye contact, he took the young man's hands in his, turned them outwards and, so slowly, drew them to his mouth and kissed each palm in worship, tracing their lines with his tongue. Drawing closer, he gathered up Xander's hands, still palm-upwards, and putting one on top of the other he placed them carefully on the palm of his own right hand. Reaching up with his left, he softly ran his hand, fingers spread wde, down the silken skin of the chest in front of him, dragging his thumb back and forth across each nipple before grasping the dark head and pulling it harshly towards him to devour, almost to rape, that half-open mouth with his own.

For the second time their tongues met and Xander released his breath with a body-wracking groan and, shaking off his paralysis, he broke away from the kiss just long enough to drag his sweater off. Arms freed, he savagely pulled the other man against him with all the strength he had. Spike answered with a desperate groan of his own as he felt strong arms crushing and possessing him and the twin of his own erection grinding hard and demandingly against him. In blind reflex, Spike grabbed hold of the younger man's hips and lifted him up and then they were rolling and writhing, vined around one another, claiming the promises offered by the wide, soft expanse of Xander's bed.

Xander moaned in frustration as they struggled to get rid of Spike's shirt; the need for skin against skin, for both of them, was reaching pain threshold and then they were dragging naked, hard-muscled chests together in a delirium of friction, rubbing and sliding and biting and kissing, until the relief of contact finally slowed their first desperate gyrations and they lay, barely moving, outspread arms and bodies touching at every point. Their mouths were doing little more than fluttering against each other and Xander's legs lay almost relaxed between Spike's as they slowly rocked their pelvises together, seeking not completion yet but just this wonderful, wondering introduction.

Spike lifted his head enough to look down in to Xander's eyes and directed a small, crooked smile at the flushed and open face below him. "And we've still got to take the rest of our clothes off."

Xander released a breathy laugh, somewhat reassured as Spike's carefully calculated remark reduced the intense flood of sudden desire that had threatened to engulf them.

"I guess this means that you've decided to, um, that we.. . you know..."

Spike shifted, causing Xander to moan, and leant up on one elbow, propping his head on his hand. His expression was one of barely concealed amusement <and he's doing that damn thing with his eyebrow again&glt; as he considered the stammering man lying underneath him. "If you can't say it, Xan, I don't think you should do it." He proceeded to draw feather-light patterns with one slender finger along Xander's lips rendering them totally incapable of any form of speech for a long minute. <'Xan', he called me 'Xan'!&glt;

Finally, with a strangled squawk, he captured the distracting finger in strong teeth and held it still. <yay, go me, I'm biting a vampire - and I used to think my life could never get any weirder&glt; "Gissen, geech-goy, gon't gawal sugeeiaw ongee."

Spike worked out a rapid translation and smirked, "You think I should go all submissive on you, instead? You were taking notes about the chains 'n stuff weren't you?"

Xander gulped, not an easy thing to do with someone's finger grasped between your teeth. "Uggh, guh?"

Chuckling, Spike nuzzled Xander's throat, the flutters of breath sending new shocks through the man's body. "Living proof of evolution from ape-men aren't you, Pet? Ow!" Spike pouted as he inspected the teeth marks in the finger Xander had sharply bitten down on and then released, "Hey, evil vampire here, remember? No blood play on the first date with humans - not safe."

"For you or me, D Boy J?" snickered Xander. "Anyway, stop distracting me, and stop acting superior," he raised his own eyebrows as Spike seemed about to interrupt, "I seem to remember you referring to... it... as 'trying something different' - yeah, that was, like, graphically explicit. Not.

"So, I guess you, like, came around to tell me that you have decided to 'try something different', huh?"

Spike stared back for a moment then lost himself in chewing a nearby earlobe that seemed to him to be feeling sadly neglected. "Agshly, ashnuh wha'khm uheloo a'awl."

Xander was, at present, stoically attempting the impossible task of wrapping his ear around, and consequently trapping for his own pleasure, the mouth that was producing such delicious, buzzing sensations. As a result, he took a while to realise that the buzzing was actual words; when he worked out what the words were, he shot up in dismay.

"Oops," Spike's observation, while not entirely devoid of sincerity - as they both regarded the blood dripping on to the pillow and as he gazed with professional interest at Xander's torn earlobe - was just totally devoid of any sincerity recognisable as apology or regret.

"Oops? Is that the best you can do?" Xander shrieked. "Half my ear is lying on the pillow and the other half, for all I know, is having strange vampiric things - that I don't even want to think about being done to anything much less done to anything of mine - done to it in your stomach and all you can manage is 'Oops'?"

Spike blinked at Xander and tried again, "Oops-a-daisy?"

"Oops-a what?" Xander's mouth continued in goldfish mode as his powers of speech deserted him again. Spike, subtly heading back towards Xander's ear, watched in fascination, practically able to hear the cogs whining as they spun free of any traction. "Whaaaaah!"

Spike pulled back sharply, thinking the unbelievable for one split second, before realising that the screech had come from Xander's mouth and not his brain. He looked back, with his version of patient, in to wild, staring brown eyes, only inches away, "Now what the hell's grabbed you and bitten?"

Spike looking on with mild amusement while Xander continued the fish impression for a moment before managing, "You, you undead menace heading back to my ear - going back to finish the job and ... Oh! Oh yeah, oh, mmm, gnaaah. Oh god, yes, that feels good. Oh, yes. Mmmm yes. Oh, please yesss, don't stop. Noo! Don't stop!" Xander was back valiantly trying to wrap his ear around Spike's tongue when the vampire pulled away.

"You've got to learn a bit of trust," Spike admonished. "Doesn't that feel all better and healed up now? Magic vampire laving healing, that... 's all in the spit. And don't forget it was your fault, jerking your head away like that for no bloody reason. Could have set the chip off." Xander looked somewhat chagrined. "Why the hell d'you want to soddin' do that in the first place, anyway? I'd been enjoying meself there, until you nearly ripped me teeth out with your ear."

Xander frowned, thinking back to what had precipitated his abrupt retreat from that blissful ear-mumbling. "Hey, I know, yeah - what do you mean you didn't come here to tell me you'd decided to phmmmmm..."

If it was possible to grin evilly while thoroughly and adeptly raiding your soon-to-be lover's increasingly fascinating mouth, Spike probably managed it. {oh, but I did come here to phmmmmm... Just not straight away, Luv{ There was no doubt whatsoever about the grin, or its state of grace, when he finally released a newly breathless and flushed Xander {damn, I could get addicted to this{ to say, "No, Luv, I came to tell you that the Slayer needs us both a bit urgent like, to help her with some new demon or other she's found to bother."

Xander found himself once again hoisted up in Spike's arms and then deposited, more or less standing on his own two feet, in the living room. The vampire threw Xander's sweater in his general direction, shrugged carelessly back in to his shirt, picked up his leather and headed purposefully for the door.

He turned around, glaring impatiently at the dumbfounded man gaping back at him and said, "Come on, Harris, chip-chop, get yer bloody shoes on, and your arse in gear, for Crisake. You know how 'er Slayness gets if she's kept waiting. Give her half a chance and she'll be blaming me for you being late - I don't fancy having to deal with any shrapnel shit flying my way because you ain't got any sense of urgency. Come on, shift it."

Chapter 6
Chapter 8