Tiger Tiger




"Spike?" Xander shifted, nuzzling his cheek into Spike's thigh, eye fluttering closed when Spike's fingers began to comb through his hair.

"Yeah, pet?"

"Finally found a good one this morning."

"Yeah? Why not read it then?" Cool fingers traced the soft curve of skin behind one ear, and Xander sighed under the treatment.

"It's about Siegfried and Roy."

"Bloke who got mauled by the tiger last year?"

"Yeah. That was Roy. Siegfried's his partner. They gave an interview last night for the first time since then." Xander propped the newspaper against Spike's knee. "When it happened, he was so worried they'd blame the tiger, you know
? 'Cause it grabbed him by the throat when he passed out, and dragged him off stage, but ripped him up a little doing it."

"Call that an attack? Tiger wanted to attack him, he wouldn't have a throat left now."

"Yeah, that's kinda what he says here. He passed out on stage and the tiger was just trying to help, right? But because tigers are dangerous creatures, everyone wanted to blame the tiger ... even when it was trying to help."

Spike's fingers stilled on Xander's hair, and then he began stroking again, voice a little rough. "That right?"

"Can't blame dangerous creatures for being what they are, I know that now," Xander said quietly, letting his hand trace the hard lines of Spike's calf through his jeans. "And even the most dangerous aren't dangerous all the time. Just because it can kill doesn't mean it wants to all the time, or that it can't care." Xander rolled onto his back, looking up at Spike, eye open now.

Spike's fingers trailed over Xander's throat, the smooth, unblemished skin, and rested there, soaking in his pulse. "Right, pet. You're not likening me to a tiger now, are you? Not going to start writing me terrible love poems, I hope," he said gently.

"Might be," Xander admitted, a little embarrassed, eye fluttering closed as Spike's lips came to rest on his forehead. "You've pulled me to safety before. And yeah, it hurt at first, but it got better. Easier." Out of the bottle and back into the land of the living.


Xander felt himself smiling, catching Spike's fingers and kissing them. "Yeah."

"Well just so
happens I already read the newspaper while you were all shaggged out." Spike's fingers stroked over Xander's lips, so smooth, Xander sometimes wondered if vamps had fingerprints or not. "Read that article too, and we've got something else in common with those two."


Spike took the paper, folding it and laying it on Xander's chest. "What that Siegfried bloke said. Here.
About Roy. 'If he's not going to be able to use his left arm, I'm going to be his left arm.' That bit. That's gonna be me."

Xander almost smiled. "Are you my left eye?"

Spike kissed his left eyebrow.
"Yeah. Left eye, left arm, bleedin' left bollock if you needed."

"So basically you're saying you'd orgasm for me." Xander peeled his eye open, looking at Spike, close-range.


The grin that had threatened spread into the full bloom of amusement. "You're a giver, Spike."

Under the pressure of Xander's hand, Spike curled forward, brushing lips against lips, with the barest hint of suggestive tongue.







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