Pillage! Plunder! Bad Accents!




"Pass the eggs, ye scurvy scoundrel! An' stop hoardin' me toast!"



"When did you become an Irish pirate?"

Xander choked in mid-drink of coffee, spraying the kitchen cabinets liberally, and flailing for a napkin. "Spike!"

"You started it, mate, not me!"

"That wasn't an
Irish pirate."

"No? What was it then?"

"Just a pirate. Arr. It's me day, matey!"

"God, and I thought Angel was bad with accents," Spike said, unaware of any possible irony. "Pet, really, the accent's not obligatory with the eye patch." Spike passed Xander his napkin as well, watching as both were quickly soaked through and leaning over to check Xander's head for lumps. "Didn't knock your head this morning in the shower, did you?"

Xander laughed, snagging Spike around the waist and hauling him into his lap. "No. Wanna be my wench?"

"Ain't got the tits, luv. Need a decent pair to be a good wench."

Xander's hand dropped to Spike's lap and he waggled his eyebrows. "Feels like a good pair to me."

"Mmm. Lovely as this is, pet, what's the occasion?"

"It's Talk Like a Pirate Day."

"Go on and pull the other one."

"Well, okay." Xander rode out Spike's heartfelt groan with a grin, leaning back and enjoying the show of feeling on Spike's face as his handful of flesh swelled to meet his palm. He continued, conversationally. "It really is National Talk Like a Pirate Day. Saw it in the newspaper."

Spike's arms had slid over his shoulders, and Spike's head followed, resting against Xander's collarbone. "There anything you lot won't celebrate these days?"

"Not much." Xander leaned forward, and planted a kiss on Spike's hair, returning his arms to rest around his waist instead.

"You know, pet," Spike said, lifting dilated eyes to look Xander over speculatively, "Real pirates didn't quite talk like that." He shifted, rocking up against Xander, and narrowed his eyes.

"Really?" Xander swallowed, brought his voice back down an octave, "What did they talk like?"

"You know how I talk when I'm buried balls deep into you," Spike asked, the rocking turning into a slow, lazy grind, "growling filthy stuff into your ears and riding you like a trick pony at the circus?"

Xander's eyes dilated. "Oh, yeah."

"Yeah." Spike brought his lips to Xander's, speaking against them, all teeth and tongue, "Well that's church talk compared to a real bleeding pirate."

"So talk like a pirate day could be construed as 'dirty sex talk' day?" And when had his voice gotten that breathless?

"Too fucking right." Spike looked him up and down from his vantage point in Xander's lap. "But you, my boy, are green as the new sprouted grass. No pirate, you. You know the price of stowing away, boy? How bout lying to the captain? Impersonating a pirate?"


"I'll tell you what." Spike's voice dipped low, and he leaned in close to Xander's ear. "It's tying you to the mast and giving you a right public flogging."

Xander inhaled sharply, and his nails dug into the small of Spike's back, hips giving a little buck beneath him.

"Like that, do you? Want to learn to take it like a pirate, boy?" Spike's hand crawled down his chest, cupping him hard through his jeans in a rough squeeze. "Take it till you're red and rough and bleeding sweet and hot for me, begging for a cold dead tongue to cool your stripes?"

"Spike, god..."

"Gonna whip you raw and put you to work on your knees, boy." Spike's voice dropped to a growl, the mockney deepening into something rougher, something with edges and splinters from too much drink and too much sun. Not a small trick for a vampire. Xander groaned as he went on. "Make ye wish ye'd never sullied the ears of a real pirate with your milk-fed mewling impersonations."

"Haa." The pop of the button on Xander's jeans as it gave way punctuated the snap of Spike's teeth and the rough intrusion of his hand beneath the zipper, deft fingers curling around hard-wet-hot. Spike hissed along with Xander's zipper, and then he was fisting them both, cold hands wrapping living and dead flesh together, slick joining with slick.

"Gonna have you on your knees all night, all day." The words snapped, rolled, and lurched as Spike's hands sped. "Have you gagging on my cock, plunder your mouth, seek out all your secrets, paint you as red and raw on the inside as you are on the outside."

Spike's wrist gave a vicious twist.

"Then I'll bend ye over the foc'sle and have me filthy way buggerin' ye."


"That's... uhh, pet, god. Captain William the Bloody to you, mate." Spike sagged against him, mouthing Xander's shoulder through the fabric of his shirt.

"Jesus, Spike..." Xander fell back, sticky and panting hard. "You never told me you were on a pirate ship."

With a smirk playing across his lips, Spike brought his hand to Xander's mouth, pressing wet fingers there with an arch of his eyebrow. He hummed approval at Xander's tongue curling over them. "That'd be cause I wasn't, luv."

"Mrnh?" Xander asked around Spike's flesh.

"I was never on a pirate ship, but William went through a pirate phase. Read every pirate story he could put his hands on. At least twice. Didn't ever say I was any good at real pirate speak neither."

"You fraud." Xander gave Spike a little shove, laughing, and mumbled into Spike's kiss.

"What was that, pet?"

"Just saying we need a mast. We don't have one."

"Well that's a bloody shame. You've got till next September Nineteenth then to make us one. Have a mast for me then, and I'll induct you into the brotherhood of pirates right and proper."

"Can you do that if the full extent of your pirate credentials are penny dreadfuls you read when you were a poet?"

"Dunno. But reckon we could have our fun trying, don't you?"

"Aye, Cap'n," Xander saluted with a well-shagged grin.

"And don't you sodding forget it."







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