The Twelve Days of Spander
Five Golden
Rings
by
josie_h
Notes
<<<<<<<<< Amicitia quod Solor (Friendship
and Solace) >>>>>>>>>
What
was Harris on about? He *was* sensitive to ‘slayer central’ decorum but Spike
was becoming increasingly agitated by the apparent need to constantly ‘justify’
to the entire household, the shift from mutual antagonism to solid close friendship
that Xander and he were experiencing. He figured it was wartime now, any
affection displayed should simply be seen as caring and sharing with a mate, natural
friendship between fellow soldiers, nobles oblige – that sort of thing. Oh sod
it – even the Greeks ‘n Romans knew that.
Leaning
up toward the open basement door, Spike shook his head, wondered at his level
of desperation then bellowed for the second time, “Bloody hell Harris! Will you just get down
here…. Got summit to show you …..is all.”
So it
came out like a demand, rather than the intended invitation. Spike pursed his
lips, and spun to pace again, hands on hips, returning to the stairwell as an
afterthought….. “And don’t blooming-well bring anyone else with you either –
just you Harris, got it ?!”
The consequent
sound of feet on the basement stairs were definitely female.
Ahhh
Bugger!]
“Hey
Man….Are you seriously trying to push these guys to stake you? ‘Cause gotta say
Spike….. doin’ a damn fine job… What’s with the yelling?”
Faith
– at last, a bint with more than two brain cells still functioning.
“ ‘Lo
Pet, didn’t mean to disturb you… Just fixin’ to give the injured lad a bit of a
surprise, y’ know, ‘boys at the local’
type moment. You reckon you can keep the troops away for the duration?”
After
a minute to interpret Spike-speak, she smiled at the former ‘Big Bad’s’
thoughtfulness and replied, “Yeah, ‘s cool. I’ll find the man, but you gotta
promise me to go a little easy on him, no betting kittens or whatever, yeah?”
“
’Course,….. just trying to cheer the lad up … figure one eye, no disadvantage
in this game.”
Faith,
who was quietly touched by the vampire’s obvious concern for Xander, shrugged
her shoulders, stated “So long as I get to use it and kick you ass later”.
She
eyed Spike’s new addition to the subterranean space with some jealousy.
Consoling herself with the thought that Spike might enjoy going a round or two
with ‘someone else’ tomorrow, then headed back up to find the still recovering
Xander.
Spike
heard the pad of bare male feet on the steps, eye’s betraying a self satisfied
smile that was currently hidden by the ‘unreadable’ expression he had worked to
hard to perfect. He knew that Andrew insisted on wearing his ‘slippers’ in the
house, Giles’ loafers never seemed to come off [wonder if he has sex in them?] Spike
quickly shook off the thought and concentrated on the task at hand…
“Spike?”
Xander had one hand firmly planted on the railing as proud - and now thankful –
creator noting the solid pine and craftsmanship. The unaccustomed tilt of his head
to ‘judge the steps’ threw off his balance a little, and a residual shakiness
from the anesthetic and ‘meds’ highlighted his awareness of status as invalid.
Xander tried to straighten and look casual as he began a monologue more to calm
his own nerves than sound witty.
“What?
You needing to check if us optically challenged types can ‘do stairs’ or
something? Well just FYI, human seeing in the dark? Really not effected by
depth perception. Hello, just challenged in the number of eyes department not
the brain c…..” Xander halted at the
last landing.
He
was greeted by the image of cigarette touting Spike clad in the usual black
jeans and t-shirt, casually leaning against a pool table, twirling a pool cue.
“Hardly
think I’d have you down here for the fun of it did you? Just figured someone
should rescue from the carers for a while…. ‘s only so much bloody Florence
Nightingale a bloke can handle before going balmy…. You up for a game?”
Xander
could have sworn he heard genuine concern in the tone, mused that ‘The Big Bad’
really was slipping these days, swiftly concluded that the additional
soulfulness and too many hours of ‘Passions’ could probably do that to a guy,
then shook off the thought to make his way toward the object of ‘pub’ desire.
“When
did you…?”
“Bronze,
yesterday.” Spike grinned, satisfied that the lad was obviously impressed.
“Seeing
as the lovely folks of this here city are movin’ on, figured they wouldn’t be
needin it, so might as well have it down here. Fixed us with a few free beers as
well as they were on offer.” The vampire pointed casually at the corner of the
basement where several cartons of welcome amber liquid awaited attention.
“You
went looting??
“Who
said anythin’ about looting - this is *clearly* requisitioning in times of
war!”
Xander’s
feigned annoyance was ruined by the broad smile as he captured Spike’s spinning
cue, positioned himself to casually break the new game ‘triangle’ with the
white ball.
“Very
suave, you git! Care to inform a chap prior stealing his nearest and dearest
next time?!” Spike’s mock annoyance was accompanied by eyes twinkling with relief
and enjoyment as he recognized a confident good natured friend replacing the self
conscious, maimed Xander who had resided upstairs since the vineyard ‘skirmish’.
Xander
lined up a shot easily, good eye sighting down the cue, and tipped the number
five ball easily into a waiting pocket, his choice of “Smalls” defining Spike’s
game objective.
“Don’t
think I need to try out for the Special Olympics just yet, Bleach boy. The
pirate chic makeover is simply to put the great undead off their game.”
“Oh
please, sinking the first ball does *not* get you out of the needy basket,
Cyclops. So what’s the wager?”
“You
are *so* not going to get me down here just to do me out of beer money in the
middle of an apocalypse Spike!”
Spike
leaned back on a wall casually, lit another cigarette and caught Xander’s eye
through the new smoke, answering quietly and very seriously, “No mate, really
just wanted to do som’t for a comrade and all. Least I can do right? Couldn’t
take out preacher boy in time… ” Spike trailed off, looked at the floor, then
snapped from melancholy to wiggle a suggestive eyebrow and add with a smirk, “
‘Sides, figure you’re hardly good for the family silver.”
Spike
pocketed his first ball with nonchalant ease, took a second, then stepped back
to wait his turn, “Well mate, why don’t you and I just pretend the rest of the
world don’t exist while we’re down here then. No harm, no foul and all that
rot….?”
It
was Xander’s turn to raise an eyebrow. He had expected some additional agenda –
or at least a mildly sarcastic remark but looked around to see a fellow
fighter, equally convinced that their imminent demise might be at hand and keen
to share the denial of that same possibility. Spike flicked the small CD player
on, and drowned out any female footfalls from upstairs with a surprisingly
inoffensive blues number.
Spying
the bemused look of his companion, he simply commented “Figured you’re not one
for Messers Rotten and Co…. Well have
the courtesy to not look *so* surprised would you!”
<<<<<< Of Obscurum
quod moeror (of darkness and grief) >>>>>>>
Some three
beers and four games later the score stood at two games all (with Spike
graciously ‘missing’ several obvious shots). The mood had shifted to one
distinctly less adversarial, and discussion sliding toward easy reflection. Xander
was currently staring at Spike’s fine boned fingers caressing the neck of his
fourth beer. They were scholar’s hands and now distinctly devoid of their
customary silver adornment, bracelet missing and all rings apparently replaced
by a single gold one. With the slow down in play at this late hour, the lull in
conversation was edging toward awkward, he decided to risk filling ‘the gap’.
“ K
…. Worst and Best…..”
“Sorry?”
“Worst
and Best experiences,
Spike
exhaled loudly, stared at the ceiling, sighed heavily again, decided that present
company was preferable to a silent basement. Apparently preparing for the worst
as balls were racked ready for a new game, he stared at the formation for some
time, finally muttering under his breath, “Five Gold Rings – bloody
Xander
hardly caught the words but couldn’t miss the tone, and wondered at his own
stupidity as his pool partner flashed him a pained look. Playing Confessions
101 with a hundred and twenty something, ensouled vampire might not prove the most
jovial accompaniment to a pool game.
“Hey,
dumb idea, leave it... we don’t need to do the share a thing….” His voice
tapered off as Spike began to talk quietly. The blonde was staring at some
unknown point in the dark corner of the basement with both hands clasped tightly
around the pool cue, repetitively twisting the garnet and gold ring on his
middle finger.
“The
darkness and damnation of December.”
Xander
had the courtesy to look puzzled but remained silent.
“Fifth
day of
His
voice hitched a little and the commentary paused just long enough for Xander to
recognize the wry statement as a well rehearsed, stiff upper lip, auto response.
“Was
always just the two of us for
“God
Spike, how old were you?”
Dark
lashes lifted to reveal blue eyes brimming with barely contained tears, “Seven.”
Xander
reached out reflexively, placed a warm hand on the shoulder of the story
teller, and was met with a clear glimpse of the grieving young William in
Spike’s expression. Momentarily leaning toward the touch, Spike recognized the
comfort offered for what it was, and graced Xander with an appreciative, openly
thankful, half smile.
“Your
turn mate…. ‘s your game and I’m *not* doin’ the Dr Phil thing without you
getting in on the act without some reciprocity here!”
Mood
effectively broken, Xander shifted to the table and following Spike’s
conversation quipped, “Gotta watch those five syllable words Spike, wouldn’t
want folks knowing you’re well educated or anything!”
“Master
bloody vampire mate, course I’m educated! Some poncy bugger Angelus made sure
of that – not to mention a hundred or so years on me savvy onesy”
“Save
the pirate speak Spike, we all know you’re a librarian in disguise.” This time
the good humor and slight relief that they were back on the usual banter was
conveyed in the smiling eyes.
“Oi!
None o’ that! Here’s me barin’ me soul and you start in with the aspersions.”
“Thank
you for coming ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case! Behold, the scholar!”
“Oh
please!” Spike took a stab at the white ball, effectively scattered the
contents of the table, and sank one of Xander’s balls along two of his own. “So, worst or best…. Audience is waitin’ here.”
Xander
saw the flick of yellow through the usual blue of the vampire’s human face and
knew he needed to continue the game he’d started without further delay.
“K,
“I
guess it’s the last
“She
was the Aunt with the moustache – Agnes – hated her name, but she was my mom’s
aunt… and she always smelled of violets for some reason. Her hug was all about acceptance
and belonging; I remember getting lost in it, cause my ears had gotten blocked
with warm flesh; I swear I was the youngest person to say a prayer for support
bras – was the only thing that kept me breathing courtesy of the gap commonly termed
‘cleavage’!
Her
arms had big soft layers underneath – and they seemed to cover your whole body…
and she always called me her ‘favourite boy’…..” Spike was shaken from his
thoughts of similar cherished yet long dead relatives, by the sight of two
crystal tears tracking from Xander’s good eye.
“She
was always knitting or embroidering something… That
At
this point Xander paused to mumble, “God I haven’t thought of this in years…
“Anyway
we never saw her again after that year, Dad managed to yell at her *and* piss
off the rest of the family in some stupid row over the relative real estate
values in Sunnydale verses LA. Mum blamed the ‘punch’ later – but even at six I
could count by twos so long as it was gin bottles.
“No
one would come near us after that and the holidays kind of took a down turn……
“Found
out she died a couple of years ago – would have liked to say thanks before… y’
know.”
It
was Xander’s turn to take comfort. Spike recognized the combined scent of loss
and long borne misery rolling from the boy, so did the same thing as worked for
his own mother, swiftly pulling the lad into a tight embrace and holding fast.
The
tacit permission from a friend – albeit soul possessed demon – simply served to
open floodgates. Xander’s silent release, soon escalated to body wracking sobs
for himself, his aunt, and the whole mess that his life had apparently been to
date.
Hitched
breathing quietened and between hiccups Xander managed to grind out “Lost the
ring, came home after school one time and Mom had cleaned away it from under my
pillow. Said it was ‘just as well’ when I got a bit upset…” Another tear was
accompanied by a sigh as Spike sat them both down on his bed and continued to
gently stroke the broad back.
They
stayed in that position for some time until finally Xander sniffed, wiped his
nose on a sleeve, then without looking directly at Spike, straightened and
moved to leave.
“Hey….Spike….
um….. thanks, uhhh sorry ‘bout the um, weepage…..”
“You
don’t mention it again pet and neither will I.” The answer sounded casual but
when Xander glanced up, he found genuine concern in the eyes of his erstwhile
masseuse.
“Thanks…..
night Spike.” With that Xander plodded up the stairs, opening the door to the
unwelcome cacophony of high pitched voices.
<<<<<<<Admiratio quod motum (surprise
and affection)>>>>>>>
The
following afternoon, Xander quietly bowed out of the ‘crisis’ meeting upstairs
that had somehow degenerated from battle strategy to slanging match over the
‘morality of eating the last one of someone else’s popovers’ and ‘naming
etiquette’ for freezer contents. Obviously critical in their battle plans for
defeating the original evil….*or not*! Xander ventured down to the private ‘pool
room’ – noting the addition of dart board and two strategically placed billiard
table lamps ‘jerry rigged’ to the cross beam and obviously non compliant with
just about any municipal electricity safety law he could think of. He couldn’t
help smiling at the handy-vamp of the month – fondly remembering that there had
been a crypt with hot and cold running television not so long ago.
Spike
was already well on his way through a third beer playing solo, lined up a shot,
and struck perfectly as Xander descended the last two steps. Having spent the
better part of three hours earlier in the day trying to reassure a certain head
slayer of her self worth and capacity to ‘soldier on’ in the face of adversity,
Spike was genuinely pleased to hear the click of the basement door and careful
male footfalls signaling casual company and the distraction of a game or three.
“Pretty
sure Churchill managed to avoid the pop tart policy meeting prior to D-Day,” the
player causally quipped as Xander moved to retrieve a cue from the rack, newly
tacked to an adjacent wall.
“Figured
you’d give me the ‘wide berth’ after yesterday…..” Spike took the lit cigarette
from his lips and wave a vague ‘whatever that was last night’ sign in Xander’s
general direction.
“Hope
you appreciate the new décor by the way.…” distracting himself gesticulating at
the additions to the ‘Billiard Room’ interior.
“Hey
Spike, look….. we could all be dead in a few days right – well obviously you
have the jump on that status but…. Last night…. Well….. thanks, OK? “ Xander,
for a moment looked like the sheepish Scoobie of old – but for the patch. The
battle scar that would endure as ultimate reminder of his innocence lost…..
“Ah
hell Harris… just get your tight ass over here and gimme a decent game would
ya?!”
Xander
grinned, nodded,then proceeded to knock three balls pocket bound in quick
succession.
“Ohh,
ho! ‘Pot Black Master’ has arrived, I see! Thousand ‘pologies mate - mistook
you for a one eyed donut boy from Sunnyhell.”
Xander
feigned horror at the suggestion, but immediately followed with an open and genuine
smile as brown eyes met blue directly. Spike unwittingly dropped his gaze in an
uncharacteristic move reminiscent of William’s shyness, and retrospectively hoped
the boy hadn’t realized his embarrassing slip.
Trouble
was, that Spike had been alone since the lad stomped upstairs yesterday. All by
his ‘savvy one-sy’ again, he’d been left pondering the previous day’s
confessional and consequent embrace. In every incarnation, Spike had been a
tactile creature, and truth be known, one who reveled in expressing his
feelings, of all varieties, blatantly. The difficulty lay in the boy offering
him an opportunity to reveal the past in relative safety, but to bloody well follow
it with warm, supportive touches, no wonder too much of the ‘real William’ had
spilled out.
The
reciprocal rescuing embrace from the pain for the younger man could only be
seen as natural reaction. Problem was, as the day progressed, Spike oscillated
between dismissal of all things ‘emotional’ and a growing, and now desperate desire
to connect. Impending doom notwithstanding, there was *something else* there. This was no longer one of the Slayer’s
lackeys, age and life had molded a courageous, loyal and capable man. Impending
probable demise at the hand of the First seemed to have distilled what was ‘important’
for them both.
Thoughts
of Angelus, Dru, even Buffy, only served to highlight that Spike needed the
touch another person right now, to feel…. Love of any variety (apparently now brunette
colored and in the ‘carpenter’ package) prior to departure from this plane, was
fast becoming an agenda needing attention, and though gender had never been an
issue, he wasn’t so sure of Xander’s inclinations in such matters.
The
rest of the day had been spent reading bits of the Illiad, sipping JD and
contemplating his moth-like attraction to dark haired individuals over the
centuries.
“You
still in there Spike?”
Spike
snapped from his reverie, realized his borderline brood and turned to face his…
friend.
“What you reckon, can we do a proper wager so’s
I might divest you of land, liberty or shirt off your back?”
“Information”
“Come
again mate?”
“Information
Spike – you know, I’ll wager you a truth or dare. Winner gets to ask or set the
task.”
“Not
much I don’t already know ‘bout you pet.”
“Oh I
have depths buddy, you’re looking at onion guy here, plenty of unknowns…. And
hey! Who says you’re going to do all the asking anyway?”
“Y
banter’s is breathtaking luv… Can we just get on with the bloody game?”
An
hour later and Spike found himself distracted watching the other player move
around the table with growing fascination. So much so, that he genuinely lost
the game.
“K…..
Truth”
“You’ve
*got* to be joking!”
“Nope,
c’mon Spike pay up….. Look I’ll make it easy…. Tell me your..um… all time
favourite
“Alright
whelp but we keep playing yeah? And the teller requires another beer.”
Xander
grabbed another ‘Bronze donated’ bottle from the bar fridge, threw it to Spike,
then proceeded to extract balls from their channel under the table and set up
for a new round.
“London
1895, us living it rich in a huge old place just east of Hyde Park, plenty of
servants in those days – strictly speaking, minions but hey, ‘s long as someone
did the dirty work, right?!”
“You
were a vamp by then?”
“Too
bloody right mate – favored childe in the most famous line in
Spike
leaned forward and took a shot before continuing his ‘truth’.
“Member
doin’ endless parties then, rich folks always tasted of port and champagne that
time of year…. Easy pickin’s.”
“First
I say eww, then I put the 3 in the top pocket.”
Spike
took another swig of beer and continued, “Yeah well, truth you said…”
“Darla
and Dru insisted on a tree that year, huge monstrosity, covered it in red and
black bows then near set the bloody thing alight when Dru lit candles all
‘round it”
“So
far, *so* not seeing a point here Spike – thought the request was for ‘best
ever’
“Patience
pet, workin’ up to it yeah…
“Hunted
southside that night – docks always good for a quick, cheap meal – then took a
ride ‘round the city, just him and me. He told me then…. that after 15 years I
was still his favourite, pulled a ring off his own hand and put it in mine,
then kissed me good and proper…. Was like kissing God…. “ Spike’s voice lowered
as he trailed off, “Ancestral seal of Aurelius on my finger, and kissed by my
god…”
Xander,
who had been transfixed and motionless for the last few seconds, knocked his
own cue As it clattered to the ground, Spike was pulled abruptly to the present,
sniffed, looked over at Xander and shrugged.
“Yeah,
well….. gods come and go, I guess”
Lost
in his own thoughts, Xander pondered his own ‘favorite moments of ‘seasons to
be jolly’. He finally settled on the ‘boys’
“C’mon
you git – I win, pay up!”
“Wha..?”
Xander hadn’t even noticed that play had continued let alone he’d lost this
round “Oh… sure, um…”
“I
said dare… Dare you to do something that you’ve always wanted to try but never
had the nerve. Has to be in this room – oh…. and *no* staking the help!”
Xander
thought for a moment, grinned wickedly, then moved to stand directly in front
of Spike swiftly, leaned forward and placed a chaste but confident kiss on the vampire’s
lips. He stopped momentarily to note the rather stunned look on the blonde’s
face but then matched it with one of his own as a cool hand slid up to caress
the nape of his neck and pulled them together once more. This time, a cool tongue
ventured over his lower lip pushing for entry, once granted, Xander completely
lost himself in the moment, allowing loneliness and fear to translate to a
passionate exchange.
They
finally broke contact and stepped back a little, both somewhat ‘thrown’.
Spike
finally clearing his throat and venturing a barely audible “Was nice pet, must
say, unexpected….. but nice.”
“Yeah
well, guess I dared, huh.”
“Care
to dare again sometime?”
At
this Xander looked up to see an eyebrow wiggle and a mischievous glint in the
smaller man’s eyes – but there was also a true fondness there. He wondered how he
had failed to noticed that before.
<<<<<<<< Fidelitas quod
Fides (Loyalty and Trust) >>>>>>>>>
A
rather disgruntled Xander stomped down the stairs for the third time that day.
After the confusing incident with Spike in the afternoon, he’d removed himself
from the basement to spend some time pondering the meaning of the ‘vampire,
kissage and the liking-of-the-same’.
The ‘ladies’
upstairs seemed to have decided it best for Xander to stay out of the ‘line of
fire’. Anya vehemently pointing out that
his seniority as Scooby was outweighed by his human fallibility and injury, suggesting
rather loudly that he was now ‘neither asset nor ornament’ in battle and
therefore had no place in the strategy meetings. The last straw came when
Andrew suggested he “go get some shut eye – pun intended” which had actually
drawn some sniggers from the younger slayers. Xander had retreated from the
meeting without comment.
He
was genuinely enjoying the time with Spike and figured they might as well
expand their repertoire of activity to include snacks and movies. Still needing
one hand on the rail when descending steps, Xander had taken two trips to carry
in the supplies.
“Hey,
be nice to the man with the entertainment and give us a hand with these would
you?”
“Sure
mate, just tryin’ to get the bloody DVD hooked – what ya got anyway? Not
watching another bloody Arni flick with you!”, adding almost as an afterthought
“Yanks never *could* do comedy!”
“Oh
ye of little faith… or global understanding! You happen to be looking at a
proud life member of the ‘Geeks of Sunnydale’, and! Black Adder ‘aficionado’.” Xander
punctuated the statement by depositing the collection of Atkins, Python and Red
Dwarf DVD’s mid table of play.
Spike’s
trademark look of derision, though short lived, left Xander no choice but to
move the offending pile to beside the television, not before noting that the
vampire’s gaze had casually catalogued the titles for later ‘viewing on
demand’. It was Xander’s turn to smirk.
The
dart game had been far more enjoyable than expected, with Xander discovering
his friendly vampire to be quite ticklish, twice managing to cause his opponent
the embarrassment of missing the board completely.
“Bloody
hell, you sodding cheat Harris! That’s it!! Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll
rip your arms from their sockets and use them to beat you to death!” Spike’s
eyes flashed gold, though it wasn’t until he saw the crestfallen demeanor and
registered a genuine apology that he realised that something else might be
amiss.
He
watched as Xander made his way to Spike’s cot and sat down heavily.
Spike
dropped the ‘annoyed’ act and moved to sit beside him.
“s OK
mate, was just kidding ‘n all….. but I figure you got some’t else on your
mind.. Care to share?”
A
litany of stories of rejections, lost friendships and fears sprang forth,
finally ending with his frustration over a lost eye and his now ‘unwelcome
status’ upstairs plus a general desperation for friendship and connection.
Spike
watched as the boy calmed again, noting that he repeatedly twisted a gold
wedding band obviously kept after the botched ceremony with vengeance-girl and
wondered what drove the need to keep that symbol of bad times.
“Know
what pet – you need to let things settle for a while yeah.” He flicked on one
of the ‘Adder’ DVDs, deliberately left the sound low and shifted the
conversation to something more distracting.
An hour or so later, Spike blew a
thin plume of smoke upward then exhaled the rest hard and stabbed out the cigarette
– apparently resolved. They had been discussing their most unusual climaxes –
goodness knows why, thought Spike – the lad was as boring as blanc mange in the
vampiric picture of carnal relations! Still, he’d listened with patience, only
once letting the highly bemused look permeate an otherwise unreadable poker
face. (Fortunately the lad had been so engrossed in his story of ‘Cordy and the
broom closet’, that he failed to notice the raised eyebrow and incredulous
smirk.)
In the light of this discussion, Xander
continued to mull over his own response to the kiss that afternoon. Finally
asking Spike if they could talk about ‘it’.
“What the hell is ‘it’?”
“You know, ‘it’ Spike… the whole
gay loving thing. The kiss on the lips ‘it’. The ‘it’ between vampires….. I
mean you do seem to have ‘broader tastes’ than me and God… there is so much I
haven’t tried …. and…. damn Spike – I really liked ‘it’. And was just thinking that….”
“Oh hell Harris, there’s nothin’
wrong with a couple of fellas distracting ‘mselves in the middle of a war with
a bit of personal exploration.”
Spike turned to face Xander
directly “Look, do you trust me? Then we do this my way, ‘n real slow for the
breakable human, yeah?”
Xander nodded, looked down at his
hands and muttered “I really do…. Trust you, you know.”
“Well good, because you’re gonna
have to trust me lying down………Told you – takin’ it slow, now strip off and lie
on your front”
Spike busied himself on the other
side of the basement while Xander did as instructed with relative privacy.
Face in a pillow that smelled
vaguely of Spike, Xander felt the bed dip as Spike moved beside him and lightly
stroked his back. When there was no flinch or protest, Spike began to massage it
in earnest. He leaned over and grabbed a bottle of oil from the floor by the
bed, dropped a generous amount into his hand and proceeded to dribble the cool
fluid into the small of the back.
Despite the obviously relaxed
status, the boy’s muscles bore the tension of months of worry, fighting and
very real fear. They were the strong, thick muscles of a man who had worked
manually hard; muscles that had seen too much hunting and protecting; muscles
that were strengthened by pain. Spike’s thumbs systematically relieved the
tension across the tanned shoulders, followed on to neck and nape of hair, all
tended with strong caring strokes. Finally the back was kneaded from base to
skull, always pressing hands tenderly from out to in.
Confident in the contented human
clay of his creation, Spike finally straddled the prone figure and began to
acquaint himself with the maleness of these limbs. Nice to feel thick muscles
again, he focused in on the rhythm of his own hands… it had been a long time
since he’d ‘treated’ another body like this – even longer since that body was
male – and there was ‘a line’ that needed to be tested each time before being
crossed.
He paused as he found Xander’s
upper thigh, leant down and whispered “Is this still OK?... I can stop….?” The tentative question linked to his own
unwritten rule – this could *only*
happen if the friend still welcomes it – because no games were to be played, no
extra agendas sanctioned, this was about adding pure physical pleasure to the
genuine bu
Educated fingers began to work
the inner thigh, higher and higher finding the folds and creases, then moving
out again to work the tension from the hamstrings and up to the lower back.
Xander relaxed into the firm
rhythmic touch… his masseuse leaned forward and whispered into his ear….
“Is it still OK?......Do you want
to play – I mean…are you up to it…. or you wanna be done?”…..
A very quiet “Hmmm..s’ OK”
indicated some sort of agreement, so he moved down the legs further… His massage
recipient felt the hands begin to gently knead and rub around tender knees,
then focus on the strong calves, back up and down…..
It was dark when he woke some hour or so later to the surprising feeling that an index finger was slowly etching a figure eight around his balls, careful never to apply pressure, while another hand continued its firm path over the small of his back and down each leg in turn. Spike sensed the boy’s return from slumber and could feel he was struggling not to react, but the slow pulse that throbbed near his fi