Donut Boy 10
"Come. On! Fucking...Jesus, ow!" Xander grunted,
as if ordering the metal to give way would help as he sawed at the handcuff
still around his left wrist.
His left hand stung, and his right arm ached, fingers cramped and swelling from his grip on the saw, and still, when he tested the handcuff with the fingers of his right hand, he found nothing but scratches. He'd barely made a dent in the hard steel.
A pile of snapped and broken hand saws littered the utility sink basin, and Xander had accumulated enough scratches across the back of his hand that more than once, he'd flashed to the image of making things easier on himself and just sawing his hand off, because there was no way he could take this hand cuff to Giles and endure that knowing look.
And there was no way he could take it to Spike either. Because knowing Spike, he'd snap the other end around his own wrist, and then the game would be so, so up.
Every scratch and cut of every slip with the saw stung and burned with the sweat dripping down his arms, making it so goddamned hard to keep a fucking grip on the metal until Xander slipped again with a hiss, the blade biting deep into the back of his hand this time and he dropped the saw, lunging for the cold water tap and turning it on full blast, sticking his aching wrist and hand under the flow as he leaned heavily on his elbows.
"I am so fucked," he whispered into the water, flexing his aching hand under the flow and praying that none of the saws carried anything nasty in their teeth. He wanted to just bury himself in a cocoon of blankets, cradle his hand to him, and disappear until everything stopped hurting. With a sigh, Xander let himself slide forward until his head was under the faucet, going utterly limp and letting the cool water soak his hair and wrap in rivulets around his face that tickled his ears.
It was because Xander had his head under the water that he didn't hear Spike come in, didn't hear the quiet prowl of well-worn boots on concrete. He'd only caught the first whiff of wood smoke and whiskey before strong hands grasped his hips and pulled back, hard enough to make Xander yelp, hair flinging water across the room as he straightened and tried to twist in that immutable grip. *Shit. He’s still stronger than me?!*
But Spike held fast, leaning over Xander's back, close enough that Xander could feel the brush of Spike's duster, smell the smoky tang that meant it was still daylight out and that Spike had run in under cover of his coat.
He shivered, heart pounding so hard it hurt, waiting for Spike to speak, knowing suddenly that Spike all ready knew, but instead, Spike only smelled him, soft breaths against his neck, his hair, the skin between his shoulder blades where he made Xander jerk forward against the sink by tracing the lines of his tattoo with his too-cold to be human tongue.
Then, Spike straightened, and Xander held his breath, sure that Spike was going to speak, but instead, the vampire only took his left wrist in hand, pulling it up by the handcuff, cradling hand and metal in his grasp as he ducked his head, tongue flickering along the latest seeping wound to taste as his body held Xander against the sink.
"You still taste of Christmas...I wonder," Spike whispered, and Xander moaned in spite of himself as he felt Spike's cool lips skate back across his neck to the other side, where the bite still stood out livid against Xander's skin, tongue flickering out to taste it. "If your demonyness is only until . Can I hurt you, Xander?" Spike's voice dropped to a purr, and he dragged the flat of his tongue over Xander's mark, thrusting his hips hard into Xander's ass through the flimsy plaid of his boxers. "Do you still want a vampire? Pet?" Spike bit off the word, somewhere between silky smooth and a snarl, making Xander catch his breath. "Answer me."
A full body shudder ran down Xander's spine, and then he knew, had only one answer, one chance for one answer, and he pushed back against Spike, arching his head away from the vampire's teeth and rubbing against him as much as his trapped position would allow. Pricks and sparks of pain where Spike grasped his injured wrist and where his tongue had rasped away the forming scab over the bite on his neck flared along Xander's nerves, leaving him breathless. "Yes."
"Yes," Xander choked out, hand scrabbling along the rim of the sink for Spike's, grasping his fingers as the truth of the answer made his stomach flutter nervously, "I'm still a demon after midnight," he whispered, and he was; he could still feel the change, humming in the back of his mind, prowling through his veins.
He felt Spike's tongue trail up his throat to his ear where he latched on with blunt teeth, speaking around the flesh of Xander's lobe, low and growly, but with the barest thread of uncertainty. "Still want me? The vampire?" Then, the teeth were sharp, pricking Xander's skin.
Xander moaned, closing his fingers hard around Spike's and bucking back against him. "Jesus. Yes. Please.” He tried to twist again, lips catching Spike’s temple, still unsure whether he was wanted or about to die, had to know. “I want to kiss you.”
“Shh. Almost. Almost.” The rough denim of Spike’s jeans rasped uncomfortably against the ache in Xander’s ass. For a moment, Spike’s voice sounded almost as unsteady as his own, and he let Spike tilt his head back, tongue flickering along the seam of his lips, but not in, not yet.
Only tantalizing brushes that weren’t enough and felt so surreal in his basement. In daylight. Where Spike was still supposed to hate him and only know him as the donut boy. “Please.”
He felt Spike's fingers close on the pendant and froze as Spike murmured into his ear. "Still gonna hide from me?" He unfurled a finger, stroking down the length of Xander's throat, riding the swell of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. "Can't have me and hide, pet. I want you." He gave the pendant a tug, and Xander could feel it bite sharply into the back of his neck.
Xander thought of Buffy's face when he came between her and Spike. Thought of Willow's worried voice over the telephone when he told her he was sick. Thought of being the Zeppo. The donut boy.
And then, he knew he didn't want to hide anymore, didn't want to hide being strong, didn't want to hide being a...whatever he was, and most of all, didn't want to hide Spike who was making him feel so very…wanted. He shook his head. "I don't want to hide," Xander finally whispered, and tensed as the bite of the pendant’s chain increased – and then disappeared all together, the charm falling against his collarbone with a soft thump. “What?”
“Shh.” Spike’s shush stirred the hairs at the nape of Xander’s neck, and he shivered at the feeling of Spike’s fingers on the clasp, delicately unfastening it. “You have a piece of jewelry to return to the lady, yeah?” Xander let Spike lift his right hand, uncurl his fingers, and fold the pendant and chain safe against his palm.
Xander jolted, breaking free of Spike’s grasp and twisting. “How did you know?”
Spike leaned forward, feathering kisses across Xander’s eyes, nose, cheeks, until he hovered over Xander’s breathless lips. “Knew a lady once. Had just this necklace.” Xander’s lips barely moved under Spike’s, and he shivered with each brush of Spike’s tongue as he spoke. “Thought at first…it was a love charm.” Spike’s hands were cool, sweeping up and down Xander’s sides, soothing the scratches he’d left the night before with harsher touch.
“It’s not,” Xander breathed, swaying under the hypnotic rhythm, eyes closed.
“Yeah. Known a fair few justice demons in my time, pet.” Xander tried to answer him again, but only moaned at the cool slide of Spike’s lips against his, and the flickering touch of Spike’s tongue curling up behind his teeth in a way that made Xander’s breath hitch. “Tell me what you wished for.” Spike’s whisper was so quiet Xander barely heard it over the blood rushing in his ears.
“You?” Spike nudged at Xander’s jaw with his nose, nipping the soft skin beneath. Smooth hands splayed over Xander’s back, sweeping him from shoulders to the curve of his buttocks as Spike worked his way down Xander’s throat, laving the line of reddened skin left by the pendant’s chain. “Wished to be a demon?”
“No.” Though shivering, now, under Spike’s touch, knowing what else that touch could do when it didn’t fear the chip, Xander wondered if he would have wished to be a demon if he’d known. “Wanted to be – special.” He swallowed, looking away in embarrassment at how stupid that sounded out loud, half naked in front of Spike in the basement.
He’d expected a quip, or at least a dismissive snort; Xander could have gotten behind the dismissive snort. So when Spike’s lips covered his again, kissing him so gently it left him breathless, he could only open his eyes and stare back at Spike. “I can do that for you, pet.”
“No. Daft git.” Spike’s smile, and the way he dipped his head to dot kisses the length of Xander’s shoulder took any sting out of the words. “Gonna make you feel like the only man on the sodding planet.”
Xander yelped as he was picked up, but this time, instead of throwing him, Spike laid him out gently on the unfolded couch, and crawled over him, coat, boots, and all, watching him with a gleam that was both possessive and…longing. “Got a pressie to unwrap,” was all he said, hooking gentle fingers into the band of Xander’s boxer shorts and lifting them up, then down, revealing him to the basement air as Spike just looked at him.
“Spike-“ Xander moved to – he didn’t know what, cover himself, touch himself, push his boxers the rest of the way down, something that wasn’t Spike staring at him with a gaze he could feel.
Spike batted his hand away impatiently, straddling Xander’s thighs. With intense concentration, he trailed his fingers up the under-side of Xander’s cock, riding Xander’s shudder as he slid over the sensitive crown to sweep a pearl of pre-come from the tip, and held his gaze intently as he brought his finger to his mouth, sucking it in, the taste of salt, and sea, and musk bursting over his tongue and making him want. “Want to see all of you,” he said instead, dragging Xander’s boxers off his legs and flinging them from the bed, ducking his head to lick a long, broad stripe up Xander’s length, feeling the heat and pulse against his tongue, warm, willing.
And when Xander clutched his fingers in Spike's hair, and whispered his name in that voice of so much need, Spike groaned and took him in, hard and hot and silk against his tongue, world narrowing to a single pounding heartbeat and the girth of Xander's cock stretching his throat all musk and sweet and sweat.
As Spike drew back, drew off of Xander with a last flicker of his tongue that made Xander shudder, he drew breath to speak, then yelped when Spike darted aside and sank his fangs into his thigh. “Ow!”
He stared at Spike, met by the unrepentant blue gaze and the tip of Spike’s tongue, swirling over the tingling wounds in a way that left Xander shaky and light headed, and not entirely wanting him to stop.
“W- what was that for?”
Spike stopped his tracing with an apologetic kiss, and a wicked gleam as he bent Xander’s leg back to nip at his inner thigh, then swipe with cool tongue across Xander’s hole, making shivery sparks dance their way up his spine. “Just makin’ sure you were still all…demony.”
“Why now?” Xander gasped out, surprised he could get more than two words strung together with Spike’s tongue dancing circles over puckered flesh that still ached and burned from the night before.
“Because I don’t want to wait.” Spike’s words buzzed against Xander’s thigh, pushed up and back. “And I don’t wanna find out I can’t have you when I’m doing this.” Spike’s slick tongue, undead-strong stabbed through Xander’s resistance, making him arch high and hard off the bed until Spike caught his other leg, pushing them both up, and back, leaving Xander writhing beneath the assault of lips and tongue and the slow burning fire working its way up his spine.
"That," Spike said, lifting his head slowly, and popping the buttons on his jeans, a hungry gleam in his eyes, "is exactly what's going to happen."
And they - well - y'know - happily ever after.