by Shanyah


Xander hid his flaming face in the pillow, his ass waving in the air as he whispered contritely, “sorry, it’s just…sorry.”


Spike glanced at him: the hidden face, the shaky form, the donut boy trying to reassert dominance over a man who had come to be so much more than that, and relented, feeling that he would live to rue this day.


He stretched out next to Xander, all lean graceful lines, smooth edible skin, cheekbones to cut glass and dark, dark blue eyes to melt any first time jitters. He manipulated like his hundred and thirty odd years of survival had taught him to do, lifting his arms overhead and crossing his wrists.


“Xander,” he called softly, “Hey…Xander?”

Xander raised his head slightly, one round, brown eye blinking at Spike, who just had to smile.

“Touch me? Please?” Spike whispered, arching his back.

Xander’s eyes greedily roved over Spike, “you want me to…”

Spike treated him to the sight of another delectable arch of his back, “yeah,” the single word was rolled through a low, rasping growl.


It shot to Xander’s cock, stirring it to life. Xander watched, just watched Spike, dry mouthed. He was trembling for a whole other reason now. Need and want and tenderness clawed at his belly, rolled and burst in him, speeding up to his heart to stamp it ‘Spike’s Bitch’. For in that moment, Xander had no illusions; he was Spike’s Bitch.


Xander started at Spike’s feet. His heart and cock throbbing, he stroked each elegant arch, kissed each toe and moved up sinuous legs, sucking on the inside of Spike’s thigh.


“Xan…derr!” Spike panted hoarsely.


Xander smiled wickedly, avoided Spike’s heavy, leaking, twitching cock and swirled his tongue in his belly button, moaning in appreciation. Spike felt velvet and tasted slightly metallic.


“Hey you,” Xander crooned, eye to eye with Spike’s single, weeping eye. He jacked, mouth watering for a taste.

“Hey…” Spike thrust without intending to into the hot, seeking mouth.

“Not you,” Xander pulled back smiling. He flicked the slit with his tongue, before leisurely sucking on the head, doing what he liked done to him. “Hmmm,” he mumbled.


Xander savoured more metal, slightly bitter, all Spike and felt his own tentative control slipping. Spike writhed and panted. Encouraged, Xander dove down as deep as he could without gagging; sucked, bobbed and slurped, going to town.


“No more…no more!” Spike chanted, pushing Xander’s head away and sitting up.


Spike traced Xander's features with sure, tender fingers, leaning over to press his lips where finger tips had touched. He passed his lips over Xander's over and over, returning firmer and more demanding until Xander parted his lips on a tiny groan. Hungry, urgent lips clung, tongues roved and teeth nipped. They tasted, sucked and grew increasingly frantic. Xander vaguely, very vaguely, wondered what that 'pop' was. He soon found out when Spike's slicked finger swirled in his belly button.


"You okay, gorgeous?" Spike rasped.

"Uh huh, yeah, yeah," Xander angled in for more kisses.


Spike met him halfway, his hand drifting down to slick Xander's erection. Xander uttered a muffled gasp and kept on gasping as Spike jacked him in tempo with the leisurely exploration of his tongue.


Too, too close, he gripped Spike's wrist, "Spike," he warned.

"Xander," Spike let go and reversed their grip, squeezing a liberal dollop of gel on two of Xander's fingers. "Inside me, love make me ready for you," Spike kissed his jaw, before turning onto hands and knees.


Xander nodded at the vague instructions, his heart thumping and his head dizzy with anticipation. Gingerly, he experimented with the gel, his fingers and Spike’s ass. Oh! Cool and tight; renewed interest slammed into Xander. He added another finger, moved in and out, panting, “oh, oh, so fucking tight, Spike.” Xander prodded, felt a nub of flesh and prodded again, firmly.


“Yeah! There, love, Xander love, right fucking there!” Spike grasped the sheets over head and worked himself on the exploring fingers.


Xander lustfully watched his fingers fucking the cool, slick, grasping channel and needed no further instructions. He lined up and slowly, oh so sweetly sank into Spike.


Blabbering from both men.


Xander grasped Spike’s hips, close, needing to be closer still to the plaintively wailing vampire. He saw Spike’s hand reach for his own cock, heard the slap of flesh against flesh and damn if it didn't fire him further. Xander swivelled and snapped his hips and practically attempted to climb into Spike.


“Xander, Xan, what you fucking do to me love!” It was a cross between a growl and purr; Spike drove back onto Xander, again and again, throwing his head back.


Xander bent over Spike, grunted in his ear, “yeah? What do I do to you?”


He turned his face into the junction of Spike’s neck and shoulder, seeking. Xander licked, jerking forward as the taste of Spike sent a frisson down to his cock. He nuzzled and grazed, lightly biting. When Spike whimpered, he did it again.


“You…you…fuck…!” Spike went rigid as Xander bit down on him – hard.


Cool semen spurted onto Spike’s chest and onto the sheets. Moments later, Xander was clasping him closer and warm come shot into him, “…fuck me so good, love!” Spike loudly declared between pants.


He flopped down onto the bed, not protesting as Xander flopped onto him, or as he showered his neck with soft kisses, accompanied by cries of, “Spike, Spike, good, good Spike…where have you been?”


*    *   *   *


That had been two weeks ago. Fourteen days during which Xander grinned everywhere he went. He tried to dredge up the mortification he felt he should be feeling for getting down and dirty with Spike, and keeping on getting down and dirty. But mortification had left the Harris residence and a warm, satisfied glow had moved in. Xander touched, stroked and caressed, smiling when Spike occasionally snarled to reinforce the rules.


Spike, on the other hand, was unusually quiet and pensive. He ventured close enough to be touched and would spend silent minutes peeking ‘what did you do to me?’ glances at Xander. Spike’s bed had become too big for one person and lacked a certain warm, lush presence. The flat had become too empty when Xander was at work…and since when had Spike taken up clock spotting?


The phone shrilled, making Spike guiltily look away from Xander, who was singing off key as he got dinner ready.


“Get that, will ya Spike?”

He was a bleedin’ butler now? Spike took his time and lazily spoke into the phone, “what?”

“Did I dial wrong?” A flustered female voice asked.

“Depends,” Spike said helpfully.

“Uh…is Alex there, I mean, this is Alex’s number?”

“Yes…who wants to know?” Spike arched his brow.


“The Gen what works in the death fields?” Spike asked caustically.



Spike didn’t respond, told himself he couldn’t be arsed with dense cows and no, the cotton-ball effect in his mouth had nothing to do with his lack of snide retort. “Gen,” he held the phone out to Xander.


“Hey!” Xander greeted, holding onto Spike’s hand.

“Hey Alex, great to hear your voice! Who was that?”

Spike had heard and challenge gleaming from his eyes, waited to hear what Xander would say.

“Spike, a friend,” Xander replied, tightening his grasp as Spike went to shrug his hand off. “we’re getting re-acquainted…hope we’ll be real close soon.” Spike suppressed a small smile.

“Spike? You never talked about him before; anyway…” Gen prattled on about Sierra Leone, while Xander rubbed a thumb over the back of Spike’s hand. “And guess what?” She asked.

“What?” Xander asked, distractedly, pulling Spike closer.

“I’m home, here in New York!”

Xander stood straighter, “that’s um unexpected.” His thumb stroked along Spike’s cheekbones.

“Yeah, thought we could maybe hook up; I missed you so much, Alex,” Gen gushed.

Xander felt the feel-good factor drop to his feet. “Yeah, I’d…yeah that would be great.” He watched, a well of feeling tugging at his heart as Spike closed his eyes and parted his lips. Gen was talking again, but Xander paid little attention. He nudged his thumb into Spike’s cool mouth, and groaned softly when it was pulled in, sucked.

“…Alex, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just,” falling hard, “yeah, let’s hook up, gotta go, call me, 'by…”

“Hey! Your house on fire or something? Coffee tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, ‘bye,” Xander let the handset fall to the carpet.


His house was not on fire, but some parts of him where. He stepped to Spike, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his lips. Spike reared his head back, levering himself away from Xander.


“So, bint’s back?” He asked with arms crossed over his chest.

“She is and I don’t care, Spike…I don’t care.” I only care about us moving this on.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” Spike grunted, striding away.

“Talk to me?” Xander raised his voice at the retreating back. “You’ve never been the strong, silent type, don’t start now.”


Spike stopped in his headlong flight to the door. He flashed angry yellow eyes at Xander, stalking towards the human. Spike waited until his face was almost pressed against Xander’s before speaking.


“Just what exactly do you imagine is going on here, witless?”

It had been years since Xander had seen a face in full vamp, and yeah, feeling yellow; not going to show it, though, “back off, Spike! You know what's going on, you’re here.”

Spike laughed, “yeah, I was there when I took pity on your whinging arse too! Word to the dim, pet; don’t go starting things with vampires when you haven’t the knackers to see them through!”

“If Buffy could…” Xander blustered indignantly.

“Buffy had more backing her up than a hell of a big gob,” Spike replied, smirking.

Xander felt the anger that had kept him alive on the hell mouth rear its head, “shit Spike, this big mouth sure had you hitting the high notes!”

“And this makes you think what? I’m a vampire, pet, fuck me and I scream.” Spike suddenly dropped his head and nuzzled Xander's shoulder, scraping until his canines shredded cloth and rasped Xander's skin raw. “Bleed for me, pet and I scream. Open your arse to me and yeah, screaming.” He shoved Xander away from him, “it means fuck-all.”


The shaking Xander was experiencing was one part fear blended with three parts excitement; he had wanted Spike to pierce him, to make him bleed so he could hear his vampire scream. Spike's eyes widened as he scented the air.


“Xander, be careful what you ask for,” he warned, determined to make it to the door this time.


*   *   *   *


Spike didn't return that night, or the next or the one after that. Xander was going crazy with worry. He smiled and worried. Made jokes and worried. Had coffee with Gen and worried about Spike.


Xander casually and then not so casually interrogated Dawn, Willow and even Buffy, with no joy.  He soon found out where Spike was, from Jo. She came into his office at the end of the week to tell him they had a meeting with Montgomery-Smith on Monday afternoon.


"Wh…where are we meeting?" He asked carefully.

"At the Dorchester…you alright? You look a little tense," Jo asked, noticing Xander's tight, white lips and his forearm bulge and relax as he throttled his stress ball.

Xander rolled his shoulders and sat back in the chair. "What are we meeting about? And why didn't he come to me with this?"

"Look," Jo was feeling a little creeped out by Xander's vehement questioning. "it's not unusual for clients to ask for progress reports, happens all the time… are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just kinda tired…" Xander smiled at her, "no, I'm fine."


That weekend, Xander made himself fine. He caught up with friends he had neglected for weeks, shared coffee, dinners and confidences with Gen and touched base with Zach. Knowing that Spike was safe helped Xander be fine.


*    *    *    *


Spike wished he could look himself over in a mirror. He perched on the edge of the oval table in one of the hotel's smaller function rooms and tugged at the open collar of his black silk shirt, grunting in satisfaction at the closed blinds. He swung his legs, smoothed his palms on his black clad thighs and tapped the shiny, mahogany table top with a teaspoon.


"About time," Spike greeted as the partners, a minute taker and two associates filed in.


It was a grueling meeting. Spike wanted to know everything. Why were they behind schedule? Did the delay have financial consequences for him and if so, how did BB plan to address the issue? Could Harris give him an estimate of when the work would be complete? Why had Harris sanctioned the use of local stained glass, when Spike had specifically requested the services of one Mr. Benjamin Scott of 217 Clifford's Row, York, England?


Xander shot back with precise answers, stumbled over some questions and could not believe that those same lips, barking out clipped, cold questions, had given him so much pleasure. Or that the distant blue eyes had ever looked at him with wanting.


"You've got your work cut out there, buddy," Pete said consolingly when Spike had swept out of the room.


Xander nodded. He went after Spike, figuring he had nothing to lose and that fang-face owed him an explanation. Xander wasn't mad, Xander was fine, but he wanted an explanation.


"You ever heard of knocking?" Spike asked. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, proceeding to the en-suite bathroom.

"You ever heard of talking?" Xander waited until the water had stopped running, before following the trail of discarded clothing.


Spike's body was completely immersed in luxuriant bubbles. He had his head resting on a bath edge and his eyes closed. Xander inhaled the scent as he sat on a rolled edge of the huge, claw footed tub.



"Yeah," Spike's lips twitched. "Great for relaxation, you know, works the kinks out."

"You could have called," Xander remonstrated.

"Uh-huh…you could have buggered off with your mates. Looks like people don't always do what we want them to, don't it?"


Xander had been fine. He hadn't come up here looking for a fight. But Spike's complete nonchalance whipped the cocoon of well-being off him. Xander lunged for Spike, pushing his head below the suds.


"I don't fucking deserve this! I'm not asking you to take off to Vegas with me, bastard! Can't you just for once be honest, Spike?" Xander panted, maliciously satisfied when Spike flailed a leg in the air. "Shit, Spike I…ah!"


Spike's arms snaked out of the water, his hands gripped Xander's lapels and tugged as he levered himself up. Water sloshed onto the floor, bubbles flew into the air and Xander tipped into the bath, yelling, "awkward! Ouch, awkward!"


It was awkward. Xander's palms were slipping on Spike's chest, he was half in and half out of the bath, with his legs hanging over the edge.


"What the bleeding hell are you playing at!" Spike had surfaced and was bellowing with a sudsy skull-cap clinging to his flattened hair. His lips twitched as he surveyed the man in a sodden business suit in his bath. "A person could…could have a fatal encounter with this kind of tom-foolery, w…wanker…" he chuckled.

"I hate to break it to you," Xander smiled, so close he could count Spike's wet eyelashes, "but that fatal encounter kinda already happened."

"Xander…" laden with desire.


Spike tugged on the human, pressed into him and crushed his lips to Xander's. Xander toed his shoes off and slid deeper into the soapy water, returning Spike's kisses. But…


He reluctantly pulled away, "I'm listening, Spike," he panted.

Spike passed his tongue over his throbbing lips, groaned. "Xander, I’m not staying. When I’ve opened the house up to my distributors and whatnot, I’m moving on. I don’t want a companion for my road trips, or a bed warmer for when I wander back…”

"I told you, I don't care, Spike! Spike. What's wrong with being here now? You're not making any promises, I'm not making any either. I think we understand each other."

More sloshing as Xander knelt back on his haunches. "For now?" Spike glided a foot up Xander's shoulder, slipped it under the jacket and worried at the damp cloth. Xander snagged the foot, holding the languid gaze, "for now," he said against Spike's wriggling toes. "One time offer only Spike, I won't ask again."


Spike slid, splashed and contorted his body in his haste to haul Xander against him.

Xander snagged Spike's other ankle, pulling him onto his lap and falling in for more frantic kissing.


"…missed you…"

"…talk too much, Xan," Spike gasped in return. He braced himself on his palms, threaded both legs through Xander's arms and  rocked, slid over the bulge in Xander's pants.


Xander leaned back,  run his hands over smooth, wet, slippy thighs, rolled and squeezed Spike's scrotum. He jacked Spike's shaft, beguiled by the picture of  Spike laid out before him, his arms straining with holding himself up.


"Xander now, now," Spike pleaded, thrusting into the warm palm.


Xander hastily obliged. Scrabbling at his flies, he freed his cock and nudged at Spike's entrance. Spike pushed forward, wriggled and lunged at the same time as Xander's breaching thrust. Cool tight body, hot plunging cock and warm foamy water were…


"Ah Spike! You feel so damn good!"

"Yeah! Yeah Xander!"


Xander didn't feel the hard bath-floor, or the clothes chilling on his back, felt none of it but the slick, gripping feel of the man he shyly, secretly called his lover.


"Missed you," he whispered defiantly. He knelt up slightly, grasped Spike's knees and started to move.


Spike met his eyes and moistened dry lips, "hard Xander…missed you…harder!"


It couldn't last. Xander was pounding, driving hard, leaving vivid imprints on Spike's alabaster thighs as he gripped harder.


"That hard enough for you? That good for you?"


Water spattered to the floor with Xander's thrusts, sound of heavy breathing and panting blended with that of water hitting the tiled surface. Spike groaned from deep inside, harsh and low as he moved in synch with Xander.


"I said, is this good for you, Spike?" The choked out words were punctuated with a firm nudge on Spike's prostrate.

"Yes it…! God Xander! You…know…it is!" Spike was shaking with the strain, his untended erection bobbing in the cooling water.


Xander felt the pleasure peak and swell, winging through him and signaling the end and he went for it. Spike wanted hard, Spike got hard. Ruthless, uncompromising. Deep. Xander scraped against Spike's prostrate more often than not and the vampire was tossing and churning in the water, lost his balance and had to clutch at the sides of the bath. Spike's screaming ricocheted off the bathroom walls, 


"XAANDERR! Oh…yes! Please, please!"

"Yeah, Spike, yeah…that's right…Xander."


They were tumbling back into the water, writhing onto each other with slippery hands touching everywhere. They ended up with Xander draped over Spike, his brow resting just below a collar bone. There wasn't much water left.


"Fuck" Spike shuddered, wrapping his arms around Xander. He glanced at the top of Xander's head with curious golden eyes, thinking: why, the cocky little shit made me squeal!

"Yeah…fuck," Xander shivered. "But wow?"

"Yeah, wow." 










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