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Part 73

 

 

 

Back on the street where he was attacked.  Xander sat in the car, doors most definitely locked, staring out at the unremarkable scene, considering unremembered events.

He accepted that his new discomfort with this area was more about what it had done to Spike’s state of mind than his own misfortune, but he kept coming back, couldn’t resist it.  As much as he didn’t want to remember the attack, he did want to remember the men who carried it out.  He wanted to present the information to the undead side of his family and witness the delight of the two vampires as they tracked down and destroyed the trio who had dared to harm Consort and honorary childe.

It would also be a relief to know that he would never have to come, even unknowingly, face-to-face with these men again.  The concept that people he knew had been responsible for his injuries had damaged Xander, made him question the feelings of every person he interacted with, wondering what kind of impression he made, if he was instigating more resentment with a comment open to misinterpretation, or a mistimed wisecrack.

He glanced over as a car pulled up on the opposite side of the road, tensing until he recognised it as Rafe’s.  Minutes later his friend tapped on the window of the passenger’s door and Xander popped the locks to let him in.  Rafe settled his vast frame and sat in silence with Xander, studying the road as Xander did, patiently waiting.

“If people I’ve worked with want to kill me, what does it say about me?” Xander eventually asked.

“Umm…that you’re successful and rich, and jealousy’s a bitch?”

Xander laughed lightly and shook his head.

“Guess I’m asking the wrong person if I want a serious answer.”

More silence.

“I don’t think it was even about you.  It was about what you stood for in those…retarded minds at that precise moment.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Of course it doesn’t.”

Yet more silence.

“I ever make you want to take a swing at me?” Xander asked, half-seriously.

“There was a time I thought you liked my wife too much.”

Xander smiled at Rafe.

“I do like your wife too much.”

“Want to take this outside?”

Picking up Rafe’s hand and curling it into a bowling ball of a fist, Xander widened his eyes in faux alarm.

“Maybe not.”

Rafe chuckled; Xander unfolded the hand and gave it back, returned to staring at the street.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” Rafe said, smile waning.  “Can’t understand why anyone would.”

“I just…  I wish I understood.  If it was clearer to me maybe I could make it easier for Spike, but I don’t know what to say to him to make it better.”

“You’re a control freak, you know that?”

“Why do people keep saying that?  I’m not.”

“You can’t control how he feels, this is something you can’t make better.”

“Well-intentioned control freak?”

“You can’t take away what he went through when he heard you’d been attacked, or when he first saw you in hospital, or when he was waiting for you to wake up and live.  You weren’t there, Lexy, you have no idea of how we all felt.  He has a right to be insanely angry.”

“But that hurts him.  Hurts us,” Xander admitted quietly.

“You have to work through it, get rid of it.  Try and smother it and it’ll be there, beneath the surface, eating away your relationship.  Let him be angry and let him share that anger with you.  Only…  Don’t let him take it out on you.”

That was too close to home.  Xander needed a distraction and suddenly gestured at the street, exasperated.

“I don’t remember.”

“And Spike can’t forget.”

“Fuck this!” Xander exclaimed as he thumped the steering wheel.

“Whatever resolution you’re due, you’re expecting it too soon.  But that’s you.  Has to be your way and right now.”

“Fuck this,” Xander sighed, momentary irritation draining away to leave him tired and dispirited.

“Come home with me.  Moira would be so happy to see you.”

Xander gave Rafe a weary smile.

“Can’t.  Know what I’m looking forward to tonight?  Getting on the computer and virtually fucking my boyfriend.”

Rafe laughed.

“Yeah, I guess dinner and TV can’t compete.”

“Why do I tell you stuff like that?”

“Because you can.”  Rafe gave Xander’s wrist a brief squeeze before turning in his seat and unlocking the door.  “Invitation’s open, remember that.”

 

Xander watched Rafe drive away, feeling a pang of loneliness that was not easily quelled.  He stared again at the darkening street, not registering the fading light until the sun was down.  He finally noticed that it was night, and started the car.  One more long look at the street and he drove off, deciding to take the extended route home because it was hours before Spike would be on his computer.  He appreciated that Spike timed their contact so that Xander could jerk off and fall straight into bed, succumbing to a hormonally based soporific rather than using potions or pills.

He began to cheer up; in his mind he experimented with various plot lines for their fantasies, becoming aroused as he tweaked and perfected the horny scenarios he planned on exploiting with Spike later.  The vampire always let Xander set the scene, and Xander did pause to wonder whether he was making matters better or worse: his situations invariably featured a restored Spike, a Spike who could kill and fuck without conscience or hindrance, and Fantasy Spike often spared Fantasy Xander purely because of the phenomenal sex, vampire enthusiastically fucking human into the bed, desk, booth table, floor, wall.

Was he unintentionally taunting Spike with something he couldn’t have?  Provoking him into more violence when he came home and discovered that he couldn’t be Fantasy Spike?

Or was Xander acclimatising Spike to the idea that all things were possible?

It reassured Xander that he could make Spike come equally as powerfully if the fantasies involved Xander doing the taking, but…  Maybe it was himself that he was tormenting, not Spike.  A year ago he would never have imagined the strength of this need to have Spike inside him, claim him, would never have believed that the idea of being fucked by his vampire would be all-consuming.  It was mental, it was physical, it was…spiritual.

Xander wanted to talk to Spike about it but it was a sensitive subject.  Ultra-sensitive.  So tricky it would be wiser to concentrate on the various ways he could manoeuvre Fantasy Spike into a state of vertically-cocked nakedness whether he be shagger or shagged.  The handing over to Spike at the school all those years ago had definite possibilities: Fantasy Spike did enjoy deflowering the innocent Xander.

Xander braked hard when the first of the vampires appeared in his headlights.

“Get out of the road, you asshole!” he shouted through the windscreen, waving the scowling creature aside.  “You want me to run you down?”  The Merc slowly rolled until it was pressed against the vampire’s legs, causing a snarl to break out of the game faced demon.  “You don’t like it then move,” Xander encouraged, reluctant to drive over one of Spike’s fan club when there were so many others present to offend with his actions.

At a glance, Xander judged he was about fifty feet from the gates of Cedar House.  Fifty feet and possibly…twenty, twenty-five vampires.  Ridiculous.  All he wanted was to get home and here he was stuck dealing with the dumbest vamps he’d ever come across, so out of it that he felt sorry for them.  They couldn’t comprehend Spike’s disinterest in them and wouldn’t be told that their presence was more likely to get them dusted than taken seriously.

A touch to the gas pedal and the car edged forward, forcing the vampire along as others closed in.  He had to brake again.  Xander saw Bradley and waved him to the driver’s window, picking up a holy water spray before lowering the window by half-an-inch.

“Get ‘em out of the way, Brad.”

“Where’s the Master?”

“I’m going to drive right over the top of them if they keep this up.”

“The Master?”

“Spike doesn’t want to know, you’re just getting him pissed with this.”

Bradley glazed over and backed off, leaving Xander to notice that the car was now surrounded with frustrated vampires, milling and weaving in an intimidating pattern.  Trying to ignore the tightening in his gut that told him he could be looking at a feeding frenzy moment, Xander closed the window and deliberately put a stake and crucifix in plain sight on the dashboard.  The crowd reacted angrily, shaking and rocking the car; Xander’s foot slipped and the Merc lurched forward, taking one unfortunate vampire down.  The surge of rage was palpable, and the vampires scrabbled, clawed, trying to find a way in, defeated by the combined strength of the vehicle and the ward that Max had cast, but instinctively knowing that if their prey could be forced into the open it would be defenceless.

Xander felt the Merc being lifted and tipped, knew they were going to turn it over, heard calls for fire in the midst of the racket and understood exactly how they planned to extract him from his protective shell.  Their lack of organisation worked in Xander’s favour, and as the car bucked back and forth between the quarrelling vampires it gave him a few vital seconds to wrack his brain for the words Max had taught him.  As the Merc was in danger of being rolled, passenger side rising at an acute angle and sending the stake and cross tumbling uselessly away, Xander held onto his seat with a white-knuckled grip and desperately rattled off the protective mantra.

Shrieks of pain were heard as the exterior of the car glowed with power and, as it dropped back onto its wheels with a juddering bounce, Xander was peripherally aware of ashy stumps that used to be arms thrashing about, having been incinerated to the elbow in less than a second.  Ahead of him he saw several vampires approaching with rocks, branches, anything that could possibly breach the shield without inflicting further damage on their number.

Xander fought past the panic and reminded himself that he knew how to drive, slamming his foot down, feeling the jolts as vampires disappeared beneath the Merc’s wheels.  Unsure of how well he was protected against missiles as opposed to demons, he had no choice but to drive past the house’s gates and the straggle of armed vampires, and he didn’t stop until he was several miles past the danger.  He pulled into the grassy verge and tried to contain the furious shaking for long enough to dial Spike’s number on his cell phone.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me,” he told the voicemail service, knowing the tremor in his voice was going to freak Spike out but it couldn’t be helped.  “Spike, I need you to call me the minute you get this message, okay?  Call my cell, not home.  Speak to you soon.”

Phone still clutched in his hand, Xander took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down, reminding himself that he’d faced worse in the past and managed to survive without permanent psychological damage.  Debatably.  But he could still feel the sensation of the car being lifted and knew how close he’d come to being helpless at the hands of…  He yelped in surprise as the phone rang, and for a moment couldn’t figure out how to make the damn thing work, but soon he had Spike’s concerned voice in his ear.

“What is it?  What’s happened?  Xander?”

“I’m okay.  I’m okay now.”

“You’re okay now?   What happened before now?”

Xander took another deep breath.

“There was a bunch of vamps at the house, they got mad, tried to turn the car over, generally scared the hell outta me…”

“But you got inside?”

“No.  I’m parked a couple of miles away.  There were more vamps by the gates and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“I’ll destroy every last one of them,” Spike vowed, fury making his voice brittle.  “I should have dealt with them before I left.”

“We never knew it would come to this.  One night it’s your most adoring subject, the next mob rule, we couldn’t see that coming.”

“You did.  You told me.  I’ll come home now, bring Angel, and we’ll wipe the entire nest out.”

“No, wait, that isn’t what this is about.  I didn’t call to tell you to come home, I know you’re not ready for that yet.”

“Xander…”

“I’ll be okay, I’m calming down now, feeling okay now.  It was a shock, y’know, it happened so fast, really fast, but I’m okay now.  I used to take this kind of thing in my stride, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“You don’t forget how to recover from mind-blowing fear,” Xander insisted.  “And know what else?  The vamp thing is easier than the human thing.  Gimme the vamps any day.”  Xander paused and waited for a response but Spike was silent.  “I actually called to tell you the laptop’s in the house and I just didn’t want you to worry when I wasn’t there to talk to you later.”

“What are you going to do tonight?”

Xander took a moment to think.

“Rafe invited me to his place.  I’ll go, have a few drinks and need to stay over because I can’t drive.  How’s that?”

“And in future?”

“I’ll get home earlier.  I’m safe inside.”

“Fuck, what a mess.  I’m sorry, Xander.”

“Don’t I sound okay now?”

“You sound…  I d’know, almost all right.”

“This is all I needed.  To talk to you.  This is what I wanted.  I didn’t intend to scare you, or make you mad, so you be okay too, yeah?  For me.  Don’t worry, and don’t come back yet, not till you’re ready.”

“Call me again later.  Right now you go to Rafe’s, don’t sit around outside.”

“Going now.”

“Take care, love.”

“I’m trying,” Xander smiled.  “Meantime, I’ll be thinking about what we can…discuss later.”

“You have a one-track mind.”  Spike’s tone was warmer, more relaxed, and Xander hoped that he’d successfully put a halt to the guilt trip.  “Not that I have any objection to that particular track.”

“Want a clue or shall I surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

“You realise your sexual pleasure now relies on the state of my cell battery?”

“Save it for later, love you, bye,” and Spike was gone.

Xander stared at the phone and laughed for the few seconds before the solid darkness outside the car began to affect him.  With an unexpected shudder he turned his gaze to the world beyond his Mercedes’ cocoon, resentful of experiencing a moment’s fear but knowing he wouldn’t feel entirely secure until he was indoors, under the comforting glare of bright lights.  He switched on his mental auto-pilot and headed for Rafe’s.

Humans.  Vampires.  Do I have a sign on my back that says beat me or eat me?  The more he thought about it, the more Xander bridled: he was not going to succumb to victim mentality.   Been there, done that, not going there again.  Heroism or plain obstinacy, Xander wasn’t sure, but it was going to take a darn sight more than fists or fangs to wear him down.

“Okay,” he said aloud to himself, appreciating the disruption to the heavy stillness.  “It’s all about attitude.  Need a little more attitude, borrow some of Spike’s.  Big Bad.”  Two words which brought about a single thought, and Spike was right about the one-track mind.  Xander smirked to himself and took the track.  “This time I don’t get away after Angel hands me over to you, and we’re left alone in the hallway.  In a classroom,” Xander experimented.  “In the library,” he announced triumphantly, because he’d always wanted to get fucked in the library, between the stacks, forced into silence by rules and/or etiquette.  Naturally, Spike wouldn’t be bound by such protocols, and Xander could already hear the vampire’s snarled demands and orgasmic howls ringing disrespectfully off the walls and ceiling.

Humans.  Vampires.  Beat me or eat me.  Balls to it.

Spike.  Sex.  Spike-sex.  Wholesome horny goodness.

A glance at the porch of Rafe and Moira’s house, and there was the woman herself, presumably having been alerted by the opening of gates, or tyres on gravel, bouncing expectantly as she waited for him.

Moira.  Rafe.  Patrick.  Beth.  Jake.  Cora.

Willow.  Buffy.  Dawn.  Giles.  Cordelia.  Angel?  Angel.

Spike.  Spike.  Spike.

Loved.  Cherished.  Wanted.  Needed.  Valued.

“You know what?” Xander called over as he climbed from the Merc.

“You like me way too much,” Moira laughed.

Xander walked around the car, grinning like an idiot, reaching for the welcoming outstretched hands.

“I am so lucky.  So.  Damn.  Lucky.”

Friday’s were always the hardest.  Maybe that was because, when Spike was at home, a Friday night was more often than not the beginning of their time, it was about unplugged phones and junk food and too much alcohol and being all over one another.  Xander would be work-weary and Spike would be gently attentive, subtly demanding, and altogether irresistible.  A precursor to weekends that were selfishly guarded, begrudgingly shared.

The fourth Friday alone.  Alone.  Lonely, lonely, lonely.  Until Spike was online and they could discuss the day at length, teasing themselves with banalities before letting themselves play.  Sometimes Spike could be coaxed onto the phone and Xander would use every trick he knew to get his vampire gasping and groaning, and there were moments of not missing Spike but having Spike, followed too soon by moments of not having Spike and missing Spike.

Still a way off though.

Xander sat at Spike’s desk, turning the fountain pen over and over in his hands, ignorant to the fact that, hours earlier, Spike had been tearing up Angel’s home in an attempt to find his missing possession, furious and upset, violently blaming his grand-sire for its disappearance.

Unscrewing the cap and laying it down, Xander brought forward the calendar and carefully circled another day.  The reminder of Spike’s continued absence would be too painful to mark if it wasn’t for the device Xander was using to do so.  The pen said Spike would be back: a scrap of gold and tortoiseshell that kept his hopes alive.  Almost funny that Xander found it easier to believe that Spike would return for his pen rather than his lover.

That particular part of the daily ritual complete, Xander moved on to the next: an hour on the piano.  He was relatively pleased with his progress, but missed having Spike there to praise his abilities, displaying such blind faith that he occasionally had Xander believing that he was the next Mozart.  What Xander was working toward was being competent enough to write his own songs, and it went without saying who the slushiest would be for.

After piano practise he’d either watch some TV or work on the house, usually the latter, when every other thought would be Spike’s reaction to what he was doing.  Would he like the colour, the style, the new furniture, how it was arranged?  He thought Spike might appreciate the new kitchen in a stand back and admire kind of way: Xander, Patrick and Moira had spent days designing the lighting that crept slinkily over the elegant Maple furniture, and Spike’s discerning eye would surely see the aesthetic beauty in it.  The appearance of the room had become of primary importance as Xander accepted that the gastronomically creative side of the vampire was unlikely to raise its head again.  So he designed a room that was as handsome as it was functional, comfortable too, hoping that Spike would be happy to keep him company as they returned to their habits of earlier days.  In fact it would feel more normal – Xander cooking and Spike…doing whatever he wanted.

But this Friday Xander heard the ringing of the still plugged in phone.  He froze, mind jumping back to another Friday night, a message from a site, a visit and…  Even if he couldn’t remember anything after that final ‘and’ it filled him with trepidation.

“Ridiculous.  You’re being ridiculous,” he scolded himself, listening as he heard the machine pick up for him downstairs.  Hearing Cora’s voice he made for the nearest extension but she’d hung up after leaving her shortest message ever.  To the machine and play.

“Alex, it’s Cora.  I need you at the office now, please.”

“That’s it?” Xander asked the machine, bemused.  “No why, just go to work?”  Xander tried to call back but there was no answer, not at work, home, Cora’s cell.  He stood in his hallway, heart pounding, thinking of another Friday, trying to convince himself that this was different.  “Ridiculous,” again, and Xander picked up his keys, pulled on his coat, and hoped that it was still too early for the fan club to be a problem.

The Partnership floors were deserted; a few lights were on but there was no sign of life, certainly no sign of his PA.  Xander crept along a deserted corridor, wary, but at the same time confident that he was safe, irrationally enjoying the adrenalin coursing through his system.  Senses tingling, he slowly pushed open the door to his office, peering into the brightly moonlit space and experiencing distinct disappointment at the lack of anything out of the ordinary.

Along to Patrick’s office, then to Jake’s and Rafe’s.  Nothing.  Still he felt that sixth sense firing and, wondering if he’d missed some clue along the way as to what this was all about, he returned to his own office to take a better look around, maybe find a note from Cora, see if she’d left anything for his attention on the computer.

The desk light flickered on and Xander took his seat; as he waited for the computer to boot up he began to flick through papers he’d left only a couple of hours ago.  Nothing.  He knew he’d have to try to find Cora because this would drive him nuts otherwise, and he reached for his phone, dropping the receiver back into its cradle as he felt something brush his calf.  Caught between freezing, fleeing, or screaming like a girl, he let out a yelp as strong hands held him in place and a not-so-mysterious stranger nuzzled his left thigh.  The fit of breathy giggles that followed the shock rapidly came and went, and he allowed himself to be pulled down a little in his chair, clutching the edge of the desk and gasping as his groin was cupped and caressed.

“Oh, please, yes, please,” he murmured as his head lolled against the back of the chair.  Another gasp as a mouth replaced the hand, gnawing at his balls and rapidly growing cock through the protective layers of material.  “Spike.  Sweetheart.  My Spike,” Xander groaned, wallowing in the pleasure of that knowledge, laughing softly at the deep growl that rumbled in reply, vibrating through parts of him that appreciated the sensation very much indeed.

Another jerk and he was further down in the chair, enabling Spike to make short work of his belt and button before taking the zip at a much slower pace, tormenting Xander into pressing upward with his hips, only to be unsympathetically shoved back into the chair and only given enough leeway for the occasional suggestive wiggle as he was undone tooth by metallic tooth.  One of those unusual noises broke from Xander’s throat as, through the cotton of his boxers, a fingernail gently traced the distinct ridge that delineated the head of his cock, knowingly seeking the most sensitive areas before rubbing and scratching until the material was soaking and Xander would have begged for more if he were capable of speech.

The damp cotton was delicately peeled away and a cold stream of air was blown across the emerging flesh.  Another of those noises and Xander heard Spike chuckle and, suddenly, more than all the sex in the world, he wanted to see Spike, hold him, he wanted a connection that couldn’t be made this anonymously.  Pushing the chair away from the desk, he ignored the murmur of disappointment and reached into the well, grabbing leather-clad shoulders and hauling Spike out and raising them to stand, ignoring his pants flopping to a pile around his ankles.

“Hello, lovely,” Spike said with a warm smile.

Xander impatiently pulled Spike into the biggest hug.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered.  “I can’t believe you’re here, I’ve missed you so much.  How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Chipped?” Xander asked after a slight hesitation.

“Chipped,” Spike confirmed without a hint of strain.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re safe, Xander.  I’ve got myself under control and…”

“That isn’t what I meant.  I’m not sorry for me.”

Spike pulled back to look at his partner, taking in the concerned face.  He accepted Xander’s sympathy with a nod, leaning in for a long, long smooch before taking another good look at Xander.

“How could I have forgotten?”

“You forgot…?”

“What a beauty you are.”

Xander grinned.

“You forgot that, huh?”

“I must have.  Why else would I be stunned by it?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Xander soothed, surprised by the intensity behind the vampire’s words.

“You are stunning.”

“You mean that?” Xander asked unsurely, flattered and intimidated and excited all at once, and the question was a pretty stupid one: the look in Spike’s eyes said it all.

“I wish you could see you as I see you.”

“Tell me.”

Spike smiled faintly as he ran his hands over Xander’s face and hair and then back to caress his cheeks with cool thumbs.

“I see…  Goodness.  Compassion.  Wit.  Wisdom.  Power…”

“Power?”

“You have no idea of your own strength, Xander.”  A small frown appeared between Spike’s brows and Xander fought the urge to stroke it away.  “If I didn’t already have you I’d do anything to win you.”

“Kitten poker?” Xander suggested, wanting to break the unnerving gravity.

It worked.  Spike’s smile was back.

“Not quite what I meant but, yeah, all right.”

“You know I see all that in you?  That and more.”

“I hadn’t finished.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You asked.”

“And now I’m un-asking.  This is too…down.  I want you up.  Spirits, hopes, dreams.  Dick.”

“That’s a given, love.”

Spike pulled Xander’s hand to the front of his jeans, and a few second’s ministrations gave Xander exactly what he’d wanted.  Spike leant against the hot, solid body, giving himself over to Xander’s touch after too long apart, finding Xander’s unwavering erection and mirroring the attention to his own cock.  Their mouths found one another and re-learned claimed territory until Spike whispered…

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

…against Xander’s lips.

“Why?” Xander asked distractedly, arm slipping possessively around Spike’s waist in case the vampire had ideas of going anywhere that wasn’t right there.

“Had it all planned, didn’t we?”

“We did?”  Spike broke Xander’s hold to take a step back, closing his jeans with some difficulty.   “No,” Xander protested, “naked vampire cock now.”  Spike let out a laugh and briskly side-stepped Xander’s lunge.  “Ah, baby,” Xander wheedled, “needy human here.”

Spike risked close proximity to rescue Xander’s pants, doing them up as Xander grabbed and groped and tried to get close enough to take a bite.

“Right, how did it go?”  Spike squirmed out of Xander’s grasp once more, pushed him into his seat, then left the room at a trot.  Minutes later he returned, his gait deliberate and measured, focus on Xander unnervingly absolute.  Stalking.  Until he came to a peevish halt and the attitude fell away.  “You’re supposed to be working, not gawping.”

“I am?”

“Xander!”  Xander held up his hands in surrender at Spike’s exasperation.  “Work,” the vampire ordered.

“Working.  So working.  This is me, Alex Harris, at work.”

Xander gathered up some loose papers Cora had left for him and began to sort them into files, aware of Spike leaving the office for a second time.  Unfortunately a detail on one of the previously unseen sheets caught his eye and his attention zeroed in on a paragraph of instructions for a new site.

“Damn, that can’t be right,” he muttered, automatically reaching for the phone.  As Spike re-entered, magnificent and sexy and totally God’s gift, what he heard was…  “Hi, this is Alex Harris at the MacDonald Partnership, I need to talk to Kurt Yeats.   That’s great, if you can transfer me to…   Thanks, I’ll hold.”

Xander looked up to see Spike leaning on the edge of the open door, looking highly unimpressed.  At Xander’s instantaneous and very visible guilt Spike relented, deciding not to walk away for an all-night session of hide and seek that would leave Xander in a state of whingeship lasting for days.  Instead he strolled to the centre of the room and let the duster slide very slowly from his body.

“Anyone order a stripper?” he asked casually, and began to undo shirt buttons.

Xander’s eyes glazed over momentarily; he shook off the weight of his renewed lust and slapped a hand over the phone’s mouthpiece.

“Please don’t do this to me.”  Spike gave him the slightest, sexiest, smile and moved on to the next button.  “Spike, this is important and you did me the biggest favour getting me back in here…”  Xander’s voice faded as his lover unbuttoned, and his cock took on a mind of its own, pulsing pre-come into his boxers.  Then a voice in his ear pulled him back to the real world; he covered his eyes with his hand to make himself concentrate.  “Hey, Kurt, it’s Alex Harris.   Yeah, I’ve got a couple of questions…”

Spike retrieved his duster, shrugged it back on, stared in a fairly un-pissed off way at Xander because he could hardly blame him for doing exactly what he was told.  Work.  Spike shook his head and returned to the corridor to wait for Xander to get off the phone.  Fifteen minutes later he heard a very deliberate…

“I hope no-one disturbs me now because I’m working really hard.”

…from the office, and had to laugh.

Okay, what surely had to be the final attempt to get into fantasy mode: if it didn’t happen this time he’d just throw Xander onto the desk and climb aboard because he really had to have the fuck he’d been waiting a month for.  And if Xander said the C word he’d come like a geyser, because claiming was on his mind every minute of every day.  Belonging.  Belonging to Xander.  It was an obsession that he wasn’t necessarily proud of, but even a Master needed to belong.  Well, this Master.

Spike re-entered Xander’s office.  This time it was exactly how he’d pictured the fantasy: Xander looking up from his work, surprised and interested, eyes widening in expectation as Spike stalked in and let his coat slide from his shoulders.  His human’s breathing and heartbeat quickening as he slowly rose, already as hard as he’d promised, watching fixedly Spike’s hand moving over his own confined erection.  The wanting to touch was there, in Xander’s expression, in the twitch of his fingers, and he made his approach, letting Spike catch his hands as they reached for him, letting them be re-directed to his sides.

“No tie,” Spike pointed out.

“I didn’t know, I would’ve…”

“Doesn’t matter.  No kilt either.”

“If I’d known…”  This time Xander’s words were interrupted by the speed with which Spike grabbed his shirt and ripped it open.  The gasp of surprise was replaced by a subdued groan as Spike gently touched his hands to Xander’s chest, making delicate circles around Xander’s nipples with his fingertips.  “Want you,” Xander told Spike hoarsely as he watched his body being toyed with, “and I don’t want to wait.  Can I have you, Spike?”

“I thought you wanted your fantasy.”

“I’ve lived with fantasy for weeks.  Right now I want reality, I want you.  You, here, with me, is better than any fantasy.  Sometimes I think you have no idea how much you turn me on.  I want to come just looking at you.”

Xander’s hands rose and, at a censorious look from Spike, obediently fell back to his sides.

“Can’t wait, eh?”

“Please, Spike,” Xander asked, so softly it was at the very edge of Spike’s superior hearing; it fluttered over his senses, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and thankfully made thought nigh impossible.

Spike manoeuvred Xander back around his desk and, after rapidly undoing and shucking his human’s pants and boxers, pushed him into his chair.  For a few seconds Spike just looked at his semi-naked partner, taking in everything from the wanton desire in the dark eyes to the trail of clear liquid dribbling down his shaft to the slight tremor in one leg that indicated the waiting was getting to be too much.

“Want this?” Spike taunted, draping a casual hand over the bulge in his own jeans, scenting the outpouring of pheromones from his human and feeling the responsive twitch of his cock under his caress.  “Want me?”  Xander swallowed harshly and nodded, brow creasing, hands rising and falling once again.

Reversing a few steps, Spike kicked off his boots and hastily rid himself of his jeans, teasing himself as much as Xander with one last hesitation before springing onto Xander’s lap, hooking his legs over the chair arms and using the leverage to begin a sensuous brush of his ass over Xander’s erection.  Unable to resist touching any longer, Xander pulled Spike closer, close enough to kiss with fevered passion, tasting and exploring and sending brilliant sparks of desire along every inch of their bodies.  Spike squirmed in Xander’s rigid embrace, trying to position himself to slide onto the cock that prodded enthusiastically at his buttocks, whining impatiently when Xander found the strength to stop him.

“I don’t have anything here,” Xander gasped.  “I won’t hurt you, I refuse…”

“That’s right, love, you won’t hurt me.”

Xander’s grip on the vampire eased as Spike’s liberally slicked opening welcomed Xander home.

“You…you…you…”  And that was as far as Xander’s brain and mouth could manage, collectively or individually.

“Yes,” Spike agreed huskily.  “Me, me, me.”

They released a mutual grunt of satisfaction as Spike settled in Xander’s lap, filling and filled, the heating, cooling effect of their bodies seeping into the other and heightening the already acute sensitivity.

“Ready,” Xander tried again.  “You were, you…  Oh, fuck.”

“Almost a fantasy,” Spike told him, equally as breathless, equally as distracted.

Xander nodded, hands now moving to run up inside Spike’s t-shirt, spread wide to feel as much flesh as possible in a single sweep, along the spine, shoulders to buttocks, lingering fingers probing to feel where he and Spike were joined.

The first rise and fall was almost Xander’s undoing, but he forced Spike still for a few moments before gritting his teeth against the glorious torture.  The preternatural tightness grated up his shaft once more, Spike’s crooned endearments – directed more toward the cock inside him than the man it was attached to – calming and rousing simultaneously and how exactly was that possible?

Xander tugged at Spike’s t-shirt, demanding complete access to his lover’s body.  Spike settled back into the curve of Xander’s hips and, after the slightest, suspicion-rousing smile, unhurriedly peeled off his t.  Xander released an ‘Oh’ that sounded like pain, and his fingers were inexorably drawn to the adorably pert nipples that now sported gold rings.  Xander touched reverently before touching irreverently, using Spike’s groans and shivers as a gauge and pulling, twisting, sparking off desire that could only be satisfied by a rapid decline into a hard, hard fuck.  Spike rammed himself down onto Xander, rising to be caught by hands that kept him firmly in place despite his squirming; Xander’s head dipped and the tip of Spike’s cock was caught between his lips, trapped as Xander sucked and tongued and nipped.

“You want me to come?” Spike accused, with as much longing as protest.

Xander nodded and Spike grabbed a handful of hair to stop the provocative movement, feeling the suction increase, feeling Xander greedily consume every trickle of fluid that Spike produced for him.

“Come,” Xander encouraged, speaking around Spike’s cock.

“Not like this.  Take me.  Let me feel you take me.”

Xander lunged out of the chair, throwing Spike onto his back on the desktop, scattering the contents as they began a desperate rut, the vampire torn between clinging to his lover and opening himself as wide as possible in blissful subjugation.  No finesse here: Xander’s thrusts were heavy and demanding, driving Spike across the polished surface until he hooked his heels over the edge and pulled himself back.  Teeth dragged across the vampire’s throat and he bucked, took Xander off his feet.

“Do it.”   The usually smooth tones were coarse, frantic.  “Xander…”

“I claim you.  Mine.  You’re mine.”

A golden ring was grasped, a mouth closed over a fading claim mark; tug and a bite and Spike hollered.  The taste of blood, icy spray over his belly, the clenching of powerful muscles around his cock, and Xander was roaring against Spike’s neck as he powerfully shot what felt like gallons of semen into the beautiful body below him.  As the movements shuddered to a halt, Spike encouraged his trembling lover to relax on him, stroking, re-learning, adoring.

“You’re claimed, sweetheart,” Xander assured when he could speak.  “Word and deed.  Spike belongs to Xander.  You’re mine…”  Kiss.  “…you’re mine…”  Kiss  “…you’re mine.”

“Spike belongs to Xander.”

“Xander belongs to Spike.”

“Did I show you I love you?”

“You did.  You really did.  You always do.”

“You too.”

“I love you.”

“You too.  You too.  Love you.”

Xander eased himself from Spike’s body as he stood, pulling Spike into a sit.  He cupped the pale face, pausing to admire before covering it with gentle kisses; a hint of a purr escaped the vampire and was hastily snatched back.

“Spike…  You were in here in the dark.  That’s good, that’s getting better.”

Spike gave a slow shake of the head.

“This much moonlight is brighter than floodlight to me.  Close the blinds and I’d be…”

“Forget I said a thing”  Xander kissed the thought away.  Another protracted look at Spike and then he was crushing him in an embrace.  “You’re home.  You came home.”

“Mmm,” Spike creaked pleasurably.  “I came home.”

 

 

Repossession 74       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

 

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