Secret Santa fanfic for mandilynn4
Verging on NC-17
Spander, post Chosen, as requested :0)
Guess who's come for a visit at Wolfram and Hart's on Christmas night?
His eyes didn’t know where to look first. Even with the lights off, the building impressed. It was imposing, beautiful, cold. That reminded him, he really should try to track down Buffy again tomorrow. The weeks of non-talkage were bleeding into months.
All was still. “Hello!” he called out. His voice actually echoed off the closed office doors. It looked like even purveyors of evil got Christmas day off. Xander slunk down a hall, the heavy silence creeping him out to the nth degree. In movies, this was exactly the moment the scary music would start playing. He gripped his sad-looking backpack tighter, just in case he needed something weapony. He peered through the office windows, speculating on where he could find a soft couch to crash on. His stomach growled. Better find a vending machine first.
A hand came down hard on his shoulder. Xander’s skin jumped, followed shortly by his organs, then finally the rest of him. His backpack made a lovely arc as it flew threw the air. Damn nerves. He spun around, bitter as all hell that he’d have to live through yet another fight when all he wanted was a shave and a meal.
When he saw who it was, he screamed. Now, that echoed. Spike covered his ears. Xander screamed again, for good measure.
“Would you shut it, for God’s sake!” Spike shouted.
Xander fell backwards like he’d just missed his triple lutz, then crabbed his way down the hall on his elbows and heels. “You are dead!” he said like he was pretty sure it was true.
“And you are sadly behind on my latest developments, Harris. Pick up a phone every once in a while, why don’t you?” Spike was looking a little unnerved himself.
Xander veered into a wall. He clung to it. “Not dead…at Wolfram and Hart…on Christmas!”
“Yes! Just like you! Here, get up, you great sobbing wanker.” Spike stuck out his hand. Xander looked at it with fear and loathing. Awe and wonder. Shock and dismay. Spike slapped him across the head. Then offered his hand again. Xander took it.
Spike heaved him to his feet. Now that Xander had Spike’s hand, he held fast to it, squeezing hard. He seemed only a moment away from checking for a hole in Spike’s palm. Spike finally had to pry Xander’s fingers off of him. They eyed each other warily. “Jesus in pyjamas, Spike! What the hell?” Xander finally blurted.
“I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I? Okay, both stories, twenty-five words or less. I’ll start. I came back by priority post. The amulet kept me alive, thanks to Wolfram and Hart hanky-panky. I’m still a vampire. I don’t have a buggering clue what it all means. Now you.”
“I got back from Europe a couple of months ago, and you could say I’m having a little trouble adjusting to life as an ex-Scooby. I’m broke, I’m alone, and I’m hoping Angel will help me out. I don’t know where Buffy is.”
That shut them both up. Spike began to pat himself down in search of his cigarettes. Xander fell on him. He hugged Spike fiercely, burying his face in Spike’s neck. Whatever sins Spike had committed in Xander’s eyes seemed very besides the point now. And these days Xander often felt that, for better or worse, his zeal to be one of the in-your-face good guys had died right along with Anya. Whom he envied and longed for, by turns.
Spike froze, shocked. He would have been less surprised if Xander had tried to stake him. After a second he surprised himself, too, and hugged Xander back. They were brothers in arms, after all, and it was so good to see a face from home. Spike didn’t want to place bets on who needed the hug more. Christ, he hated the holidays.
Xander finally pulled back. “Look at you! The same black T-shirt and jeans ensemble, I see.”
“And I see you’ve moved on to the latest in indigent wear. And you’re skinny as a stake. Poverty really agrees with you.”
Xander started laughing, then couldn’t stop. The shock was setting in. He even staggered, to get the point across. Spike grabbed him by the arm. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Spike led Xander to the lunch room, which still had a few leftover items from meals of peons past. He sat and watched Xander gobble down a can of Spaghetti-Os, a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup, the remainder of a box of Christmas chocolates, and an entire tub of peach yogurt Spike found in the fridge, only three days expired. The color was finally coming back to Xander’s face.
When Xander finally took a breath, Spike asked him, “How did you get in here, Harris? I thought the security in this building was airtight.”
Xander started in on a bag of caramel rice cakes from the back of one of the cupboards. “It probably is, but so far nothing can touch the welcoming amulet Willow made me.” He pulled a small tattered canvas bag from his jeans pocket. “Everyone’s always glad to see me now.”
Spike examined it skeptically, wrinkling his nose at its smell. “They are? Must be the dark arts, then. So Willow’s back in the game?”
“She is indeed. She’s got a firm hand on the magic this time. She’s leading the Council through some kind of gay Renaissance.”
“Do tell. And what about Anya? Getting moist over the Euro?”
Xander hesitated. Spike knew what Xander was going to say before he even opened his mouth. “Anya didn’t make it out of Sunnydale.” It was the first time Xander had said her name in five and a half months.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Xander. Really.” Spike wanted to kill Angel. How could the stupid git have missed telling him that? Typical. If she hadn’t mattered to Angel, she hadn’t mattered. “And how about Dawn? Still with her sister?”
Xander let out a big whoosh of air. “Yup. She had a boyfriend last I heard. Going to some rockin’ private school on a Slayer family scholarship, courtesy of the Council.”
“That’s brilliant. And Buffy’s all right?” As casual as a game of Frisbee. Spike wasn’t used to talking about Buffy to someone who had actually seen her lately. Touched her. Listened to her laugh. He hoped she was laughing so much that she made people look.
“As far as I know.” With a shrug. That told Spike everything he needed to know about Xander and Buffy. “I’m astounded you haven’t gone on the European stalker tour yet.”
Spike sat back in his chair. “I have some things to work out here first. And…well…honestly, I’m a wee bit nervous about seeing her again.” Spike couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. His loneliness was reaching epic proportions. Next thing he knew, he’d be braiding Xander a friendship bracelet. “So why aren’t you fighting the good fight with your pals anymore?” Consider the subject changed.
“I guess I just got sick of the big estrogen party. I never thought I could get tired of being around women, but I was proven wrong.”
“What about Andrew?”
Xander gave Spike a look. “Like I said. It started to get to me. Did you know that if you stick a bunch of girls together, sooner or later they all get their periods at the same time? How can any man be expected to endure that?”
Spike got a faraway look in his eye. “All at the same time, huh?”
Xander cringed. “Spike! My stomach is shaky enough as it is!”
Spike held up his hands. “What? Who was it again who started to yap about a queue of menstruating girls to a vampire? Oh, that’s right. Xander.”
They both grinned at that. It was the perfect moment for an inevitable awkward silence to fall between them now that they’d shared all this touchy-feely talk, but Spike wasn’t about to let that happen on his watch. He was desperate for some conversation. “Are there any other tragic deaths I should be made aware of?”
Xander shook his head. “Only yours. Man, this is creepy. It’s like seeing a ghost.”
Spike snorted. “Not any more.”
Xander nodded like he knew what that meant. “And what about you? Why are you here all by yourself on Christmas night?”
“Dunno. Didn’t feel like going anywhere.”
“And where did Angel and Wes go?”
Spike looked levelly at Xander. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me.” He pushed away from the table and stood up. Conversation was overrated anyway. “Come on, then. You probably want to get cleaned up.”
He walked out of the room without a backward glance. Xander followed, leaving a hasty trail of rice cake debris in his wake.
Spike picked the lock on Angel’s office door in under a minute. He knew there were other impediments in place to block unwanted visitors to this room, but sure enough, Xander’s amulet was as good as a back stage pass, and the door swung open. Thank you, Santa Willow.
Spike was leading Xander through to Angel’s apartment, but Xander stopped at the desk and ran his hand over it. “This is Angel’s office, isn’t it?” he exclaimed.
“Give the kid a gold star.” Spike kept walking, but Xander didn’t move. He was gaping at the decadent luxury of it all. Spike stopped and waited.
“I guess Angel’s living like Hugh Hefner these days,” Xander said, sour as homeless, friendless lemons.
Spike smiled as he imagined this place as the Playboy mansion. Wes and Gunn in the hot tub. Fred and Lorne playing volleyball. It could work. “Something like that. Angel always seems to come out smelling like a field of fucking daisies, doesn’t he?”
“Always did. Always will. That gypsy curse blows, man. They need to upgrade. Soul Curse Millennium Edition.”
Spike grunted. “Don’t get me going. I have enough Angel issues without you stirring the pot.”
Xander perked right up. “So we both still hate Angel? Maybe we should start a club. I’m president.”
“I’m king,” Spike shot back.
“I have a soul...shit! I saved the world.”
“I saved the world and shagged Buffy. Not in that order.”
Xander opened his mouth, then closed it. “Wow. You really go for the throat.”
“So they keep telling me.”
Xander, who at one time would have given several body parts to shag Buffy, possibly while saving the world, was not as impressed with Spike’s accomplishments as Spike might have imagined. Xander ceded the point, however, because he had nothing else to trump it. “Whatever. You can be president. I’ll be treasurer.”
“So what should be the first order of business? Do something nasty to his desk?” Spike grinned most evilly.
Xander pondered this. “Like what?”
“We could pee in his chair…”
“…but it’s been done.”
Xander deflated. “Bummer. We could, uhh, put a snake in his drawer.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “What kind of Big Bad are you anyway, Harris? Is that the best you can come up with? There’s gotta be something we could do to that desk that would piss Angel off so bad his hair gel would catch fire.”
They looked at the desk. They looked at each other. It was so quiet you could hear an insinuation drop. Spike watched as Xander’s cheeks slowly flushed. His heart had started thudding loud enough to summon King Kong. Spike grinned. “You dirty bastard!” he crowed.
Xander stepped away from the desk. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Now how about a shower?” He took his brain out of his head and gave it twenty lashes as Spike burst out laughing.
Xander looked like he might take a swing at him. “Why don’t you just shut the fuck up, Spike? My life sucks, okay? I mean, I’m here to beg for help from somebody I can’t stand, my friends are back in the motherland and may not even be my friends anymore, I have no job, one eye, and the second-last time I ate was two days ago. I have no idea what to do with my life, and it doesn’t really matter, because everything I do is pointless. So I really don’t want to take your crap. Really a lot!”
Spike shut the fuck up. For about five seconds. “Maybe we can loosen the wheels on his chair later,” he said as he led Xander through to the inner sanctum. Xander glared at the back of his head.
“The shower’s in here,” said Spike, pointing. “I don’t know where the towels are, but...” Xander shut the bathroom door in Spike’s face.
Xander found the towels himself, and had a fun snoop through Angel’s things. Nothing even vaguely naughty, not even K-Y Jelly. At least Xander wasn’t the only one going without. He hadn’t had sex in six months, and he was still waiting for the morning he’d wake up and discover he didn’t care about it anymore. That could happen, right? Use it or lose it – he’d seen it on Oprah more than once. But so far, his libido was like a toothache, constant and persistent. Speaking of, he found an unopened toothbrush, and tore off the packaging. In his dazed state, he’d left his backpack on the floor at the other end of the office, but it wasn’t like he had much in there to begin with. And Chez Angel’s stuff was way better anyway.
Xander turned the water on, and set the temperature to just below “sterilize”. He stepped in, gasping gratefully. He glanced around. This was the nicest shower he’d ever been in. Now, what Angel did have was bath products. Dozens and dozens of bath products. He analyzed the many bottles and tubes, picking and choosing the ones he used with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old. He gleefully washed his crotch with Angel’s bar of Tangerine Exotic Fruit Facial Soap.
There were four – count ‘em – four kinds of conditioners. And a detachable shower head. This shower was a masturbatory utopia. He wasn’t about to give himself a hand, though, not with Spike and his bionic ears twenty feet away. The thought of Spike made the bottom drop out of Xander’s stomach.
L.A. had not been kind to Xander. He had never been what you might call ambitious, but now just living almost seemed like too much work. The idea of finding a job, dating, getting on with it, seemed ridiculous after the superhero adventures of the last seven years, and the bloody finale that had ended them. If only he wasn’t so old – at least then he could be a squeegee kid. As it was he was simply lost.
But seeing Spike, now that had put a focus on things. Back from the dead, or the undead, or whatever. It made Xander wonder for the first time in a long time, much longer than six months, if maybe things could turn out differently than what he had been assuming. Fearing. Dreading. Maybe fate would change things around for Xander, too.
As for the desk misunderstanding, how freaking embarrassing was that? Xander hadn’t meant the two of them when he’d blushed. But of course, now that the idea was in his head, there was no getting it out. Unlike everything he’d learned in high school.
Spike had a way of looking right through a person, into a person, there was no denying it. But Spike had never bothered to glance Xander’s way before, and why should he have? He’d had his hands full with the women of Sunnydale, never mind the men. But now here they were. Just the two of them. Completely alone, with no distractions. No witnesses. He washed his crotch again. A guy couldn’t be too clean down there.
He had brushed his teeth, shaved, and used a reconstructing conditioner before he finally admitted to himself that he was waiting. For what, he could not – would not – say. He didn’t have to. Every inch of his skin said it for him. He was waiting for Spike to barge in, a reasonable excuse rolling off his tongue. Here’s an extra towel, Xander. Hurry up, Xander. Did you call me, Xander?
But Spike stayed on the other side of the door. The proper side. The sane side. Xander regretted making the water so hot, because his body felt like it was scalding. He turned the taps off, got out, and dried off with a towel as thick as a sheet of drywall, and just about as big.
He opened the door and peeked out. All clear. He hunted through Angel’s walk-in closet until he found a pair of Gap sweatpants and sweatshirt amongst all the suits. He slipped them on as-is, because he’d be damned if he was going to wear Angel’s underwear.
Xander wandered back through to the outer office. He found Spike sitting behind Angel’s desk. While Xander was in the shower, Spike had cleared it of everything that was Angel’s, including the computer and the phone. Now all there was on the fine burnished mahogany was a deck of cards, a crystal decanter of amber liquid, two shot glasses, and a bunch of hundred dollar bills.
It was a good thing Xander hadn’t been too proud to use Angel’s deodorant. He tried to think of something exceptionally scathing to say.
“What’s this?” he said.
“Have a seat, Harris,” Spike said mildly.
Xander pulled up a chair across from Spike. He half expected Spike to ask him about his work experience. Xander’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t speak. That was okay. Spike always had enough to say for the both of them.
Spike filled the shot glasses as he talked. “I had a chance to think while you were taking your forty-minute shower.” He pushed one of the shot glasses across the desk. “It’s Christmas, you’re lonely, you’re sad. Happens to the best of us. So I thought it would be nice if I could give you a present.”
Xander picked up the shot glass and drained it. When he was done, he still couldn’t have said what had been in it. He pushed the glass back over to Spike, who filled it and pushed it back. Xander picked it up and drained it again. “What kind of present?” he asked when he was finished. It did not come out as a shriek, somewhat surprisingly.
“I thought it would be fun if we could play a friendly game of cards. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Spike allowed the smallest of smiles to come to his lips.
“I...I don’t like card games.”
“Give it a chance - you might like this one. It’s pretty simple, really.”
“And what? And what? We both know there’s an and! Tell me the and!”
Spike shrugged. “Well, I did think it would be more enjoyable if we made it interesting. Let’s say, a hundred dollars a hand?”
“Where’d you get the money?”
“I stole it.”
“Of course you did. You know I don’t have any money.”
Now Spike tilted his head. Xander had forgotten about the tilt. The one that made girls giggly. Xander was feeling rather giggly himself. “That usually means the player has to wager something else of value then,” Spike said slyly.
Xander pushed the shot glass over. Spike filled it and pushed it back. Xander drank up. “I don’t have anything of value,” he said when it was all gone. Grasping at the last straws of denial.
“Are you sure, Harris?”
“I could pour concrete for you.”
Spike liked that one a lot. “Let me explain the rules of the game to you first. Then we can talk about your wager.” He picked up the deck of cards and shuffled them. Then he laid two cards in front of Xander, one face-up, the other face-down. The first card was the Four of Hearts. Spike tapped the second card. “You tell me, is this card higher or lower than the first card?”
“Higher,” said Xander.
Spike turned over the other card. It was the Eight of Spades. “You win,” he said.
Xander blinked. “That’s it?”
Spike nodded. “I thought I better keep it easy for you.” He riffled the cards. “Now. About your wager.” Xander kept his eyes on the cards in front of him. “Each time you win, I’ll give you one hundred dollars. Each time you lose...” Xander stared so hard at the cards it was a wonder they didn’t spontaneously combust. “...you let me kiss you.”
Xander couldn’t say he was shocked. But the adrenaline burst through his body just the same. He looked into Spike’s painfully blue eyes. “And why would I let you do that?”
“Because you need to play so you can win some money.” Spike looked at him solemnly.
“How much money do you have?”
“A thousand dollars. Ten hands. If you keep winning.”
“You’re a vampire. I’m not like Buffy – I can’t do that.”
Spike sighed impatiently. “Why not? You said yourself that whatever you do is pointless. Isn’t that another way of saying meaningless? Why would kissing me be any different? Your problem is that you want everything to have some kind of grand purpose. But some things have no purpose, except to make you feel good. Like gummy worms.”
Xander licked his lips. A thousand dollars. That was five hundred Big Macs. “Fine,” he said. No point over-thinking this. “But if it comes to it, remember, you are kissing me. That’s all.”
Spike beamed. He really did have some smile. “That’s enough.” He dealt two more cards as Xander’s hands and feet went numb. First card up, King of Spades. Spike rolled his eyes.
“Lower,” said Xander. Yup, lower it was. Spike handed him a hundred bucks.
Two more cards. Six of Diamonds. Xander’s tongue was the cotton roll in a bottle of pills. “Higher.” Spike uncovered the other card. Jack of Diamonds. Spike handed him another hundred.
Two more cards. Seven of Clubs. Xander was quiet for a long time. “Higher.” The other card was the Two of Hearts. Xander wiped his hands on his sweats.
Spike looked like the cat who frenched the canary as he got up and came around to Xander’s side of the desk. Xander stood. He was just as pale as Spike. Spike put his hands on Xander’s shoulders and sat him down on the desk. Who’s desk was it again? He couldn’t quite remember just then. Spike pushed Xander’s legs apart with his knee and stepped between them. Then he pulled Xander to the edge of the desk.
“I am not gay,” said Xander weakly.
“I know. That’s what makes it so fun.”
Xander was hyperventilating. The space between Spike’s jeans and Xander’s sweatpants was down to sixteenths of an inch. Xander closed his eyes as Spike leaned in. Spike kissed the corner of Xander’s mouth, then the other corner. He teased Xander’s lips apart with his tongue. Xander’s body started to shake. Spike didn’t seem to notice. He paused only long enough to say, “Remember not to kiss me back, Harris. Otherwise one of us just might think you are queer.” Xander tried his best as Spike worked him over.
It was only supposed to be one kiss. But Xander was very dizzy, and couldn’t quite figure out where one kiss ended and the next began. Next thing he knew, Spike had him flat on his back and the shot glasses were rolling in circles. Spike straddled him, his hands on the desk on each side of Xander’s head. Xander suspected he was kissing Spike back, but that didn’t seem so important any more. When Spike sat up, Xander feared he even whimpered in protest.
“That’s what I thought,” said Spike. “Next hand.” He didn’t get off of Xander, just pulled some cards out from underneath him. He put two down beside them. “Queen of Clubs,” he said to Xander, who was in no position to see.
Xander looked at Spike with anguish. Spike raised his eyebrows and waited. Xander closed his eyes again. At that moment, money was dead last on the list of things he needed from Spike. “Higher,” Xander whispered.
It wasn’t higher. Spike held Xander’s wrists down on the desk this time, just because he could. This time, there was no denying that Xander kissed Spike back. Hungrily, in Spike’s opinion.
Spike sat up again. Xander strained upwards, trying to follow him with his mouth. “Ready for the next hand?” Spike asked him.
Xander nodded. “And you’ll kiss me again if I lose?”
Spike paused. Could Xander not even hear the hope in his own voice? Xander’s coy reluctance was starting to piss Spike off. Spike, who knew a thing or two about duress, pressed his mouth against Xander’s ear and said the words he knew would cause Xander the most stress per square inch. “Tell you what, Xander. Let’s make it all or nothing. You’ll be on your knees if you lose. And I’ll be out a thousand dollars if you win.”
Xander’s hips rose against Spike, either to express outrage or speculation. Maybe both. Spike dealt the cards. “Nine of Hearts.”
Xander bit his lip, perhaps hoping to stop his heterosexuality from escaping out of his mouth when he wasn’t looking. It did not help Xander concentrate when Spike ground his crotch into Xander’s. Xander finally muttered, “Lower.” He honestly couldn’t say whether he wanted to win or lose. God help him.
Spike picked up the second card. He studied it silently. Xander’s skin felt like a thousand pins were pricking it. Not terrible pricks, mind you. Exciting pricks. Okay, he had to stop saying pricks, like, now. “Well?” Xander finally asked.
Spike didn’t answer. He flicked the card again and again with his thumb, an unreadable smile on his face.
“I need to know which card it was! Show me that card!” Xander tried to grab it from him. Of course, Spike easily kept it out of Xander’s grasp. They were wrestling on the desk like a couple of kids, arms and legs tangled. When he realized the futility of it all, Xander punched Spike in the nose. Spike looked at him like he’d gone crazy. Maybe he had. Spike gave him the card.
Xander looked at it. Two of Diamonds. He’d won. He looked at Spike, who shrugged. “That’s right. You’re off the hook, Harris. You can breathe a sigh of relief.”
Xander nodded slowly as Spike got off the desk. The cards and money and glasses were scattered around them like a hand grenade had gone off in the middle of Caesar’s Palace. Xander got off the desk, too. He straightened his sweatshirt.
Spike said, “Maybe there’s something on TV we could watch. A game or something.” An emotion flashed over his face as he said it, gone as quickly as it came. Xander wasn’t certain which emotion it had been, but he thought it might have started with an R. Regret? Relief? Resignation?
Xander guessed Spike was accustomed to being used like he was a sin that had to be forgiven. Accustomed to being used quickly, before the guilt could set in. Xander pursed his lips. Then he put his hand on Spike’s shoulder and yanked him back onto the desk.
He shoved Spike roughly down on his back, his head smacking against the wood. Xander climbed on top of him. Just before he kissed him, Xander thought Spike looked thrilled and a half to be unexpectedly manhandled by Xander Harris. That possibility turned Xander on like a Christmas tree.
He kissed Spike softly, shyly at first, like this was the end of their first date. “Shh,” Xander whispered, even though Spike hadn’t said anything. Spike closed his eyes. He kissed Spike for a long time, more and more urgently. When Xander pressed his tongue into Spike’s mouth, Spike gripped the edge of the desk very tightly.
Xander didn’t notice when he stopped kissing Spike’s mouth and started kissing the rest of him. He just woke up a little while later to find himself pulling Spike’s T-shirt out of the way as he let his lips run over Spike’s chest and stomach. Spike’s body was angled and hard where Anya had been round and soft. Spike’s body did not give. Xander’s mouth had to give against it. Luckily, Xander’s mouth was ready to give. Xander got off the desk.
Spike did not look surprised when Xander undid Spike’s belt with a trembling hand, though he did look grateful. Spike actually had to help Xander with the fly – Xander’s fine motor skills were presently shot right to hell. Xander shimmied Spike’s jeans down. His eyes went as big as saucers. Spike was huge. Massive. Oak-like. Okay, Xander knew he was probably going into some kind of hysterical shock, but still. Big enough.
Spike saw this play out on Xander’s face. He sighed. “You don’t have to do this. Really.”
Xander replied by kissing Spike’s hipbones. They were easy to find. He ran his tongue lower, taking his time, and bit the insides of Spike’s thighs, because he liked that himself. Spike put a hand over his eyes.
Xander finally raised his head. His heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest. He was electrified, and terrified, and his cock was possibly the hardest it had ever been. He put his sweaty hands on Spike’s hips, licked his lips, and got to know Spike better than he could have ever imagined. He felt his face flush as his mouth opened wider. And wider.
Spike lay very still, knowing better than to spook Xander as he got a feel for what he was doing. But as Xander found his rhythm, it was just too much, and Spike moaned. That made Xander slow to a standstill. Spike put his hand on the top of Xander’s head. “Please, Xander...please don’t stop.”
There was no getting around it – Spike was begging him. Every bit of squeamish embarrassment Xander had felt was suddenly decimated by the red flood of lust that crashed over him then. The power! Why hadn’t anyone ever told him about the power that came with giving a blowjob? At that moment, his top priority became making Spike moan a second time. And then maybe gasp. There seemed nothing more important in the world than to hear Spike suck air between his teeth. Xander tried to figure out what he could do with his tongue that would make Spike respond the most vocally. Spike’s reactions did not disappoint. And when Xander accidentally bit him, Spike even arched his back. Oh, dear God, with the back arching.
When Spike’s body finally jerked violently against him, Xander had to decide what he was going to do. It all boiled down to this in the end: Spike, whom Xander had hated and feared and desired in fairly equal parts all these years, was completely at Xander’s mercy for the very first time as he came in Xander’s mouth. You couldn’t have pried Xander off of Spike with a crowbar.
“Bloody hell, Xander,” Spike said shakily when he finally sat up on his elbows. “You’re a natural-born....” That was all he got out before Xander was pushing him back down and kissing him raw.
They both scrambled to get Xander’s clothes off. It was something of an ordeal since they absolutely could not stop kissing. Spike ran his hands over Xander’s body, and Xander groaned into Spike’s mouth. Spike yanked his head away. “What?” said Xander with alarm. If Spike was going to have a sudden crisis of conscience now, Xander was ready to reach into Spike’s chest and pull out that fucking soul with his bare hands.
But Spike only wanted to kick off his boots and jeans, and peel off his T-shirt. Xander had never looked at Spike’s body with quite so much appreciation. He needed more of it. He needed all of it. Then they were kissing again, that body pressed cool and hard against his bare skin. “Xander?” Spike said softly. It was a question. The question.
Xander’s heart stopped for maybe two or three days, then surged back into action, double-time. “How, uh, how do guys decide...who...” he stammered.
Xander could feel Spike smile as he kissed his way down Xander’s neck. “How do you think they decide?”
“Well. Let’s see. You’re a vampire who wears a leather duster and takes whatever he wants. I’m a malnourished geek with self esteem issues. I know where I fit in on the food chain. That’s just a figure of speech, by the way. Although they way I’m looking, it would probably have to be a pity...” He didn’t finish the thought. He sounded a little too self-conscious to be joking.
Spike pulled away from him, his expression one of disbelief. He put his hands in Xander’s too-long hair. “Oh, Xander. You don’t even know, do you?” Spike forced Xander to look at him. “You are perfect in every way. You are eminently fuckable. You make my mouth water. Look.” He kissed Xander very slowly, and when Xander’s lips came open, Spike slid his tongue in. Xander feared he couldn’t survive much more of Spike’s tongue.
When Spike finally stopped, he said, “But this is your Christmas present. Let me give this to you.” The room started to spin as Xander gazed into Spike’s face. Spike was looking at Xander the way he used to look at Buffy after he’d decided that he wanted her. Oh. So that was why she couldn’t stay away. That explained everything.
Without another word, Spike fell back against the desk. For one glorious moment, Xander thought Spike had swooned, but no. He simply stretched across the desk, his body making a perfect curved line from hip to fingertip, and pulled open one of the drawers. Spike dug around until he found what he was looking for, then sat back up. It was K-Y Jelly. Aha. So that was where Angel kept it.
Xander perused Angel’s wall art so very carefully as Spike slathered it on him. Spike’s hands were confident, and not at all nervous. Of course.
When he was done, Spike stood and gave Xander one last, quick kiss – good-bye, dear – then turned and laid his palms flat on the desk. And waited. Xander couldn’t move. How had this gone so far? He'd swallowed three shots of whatever the hell had been in that decanter, and he'd swallowed Spike, and now…? Xander watched the muscles flex in Spike’s shoulders. He reached over and ran his fingertips down Spike’s spine. Bump. Bump. Bump. He took a step closer and kissed the curls of blonde hair on the back of Spike’s neck. His cock rubbed against Spike’s ass. Spike made the best noise ever and pushed against him. Xander watched his own hands as they spread Spike apart. And then, well, Xander fucked him. He tentatively eased into him, trying his best not to buckle at the knees. “Doesn’t it hurt?” he asked anxiously.
Spike made a sound bordering on desperation. “Yes, it does. Now why don’t you hurt me a little bit harder.”
But Xander quickly learned that there were no half-measures in this. Although he started out kindly enough, it didn’t take long before he was nailing Spike into the desk, his hands gripping Spike’s hips for maximum leverage. Spike took it without complaint – with a fair bit of encouragement, actually. It was indisputably different than having sex with a girl, and very possibly better. He didn’t last quite as long as he would have liked.
He crumpled onto the desk next to Spike when he was done, beyond caring about the mess. Spike rolled over on his back, legs dangling. “Thank you,” said Xander finally. Spike thought he sounded very young.
Spike studied him. “Why didn’t you just go to a hotel, Xander? The amulet would have gotten you in anywhere.”
Xander searched Spike’s eyes, for what he wasn’t sure. “I wanted someone to be glad to see me without the amulet’s help.”
Spike opened his mouth, then closed it. “I’m glad to see you,” he said at last. Xander nodded. He couldn’t speak.
Xander suddenly sat up, and pulled himself to his feet. “I’ve really got to go.”
Spike’s eyes shut down like someone closing a blind. Another Scooby hit-and-run. He should have known. “You go right ahead,” he said with exasperation.
Xander frowned. Then he laughed. “I mean I have to go...you know. To the bathroom. I guess you never have to worry about things like that.”
If Spike could have blushed, that would have been the time. “Oh. Right.”
Xander felt something break open in his heart. He didn’t want to analyze it too closely, for fear of snuffing it out just by turning his attention to it. But it felt a lot like hope. He stuck out his hand. “Come with me. You would not believe how many conditioners Angel has.”
“You’d better show me, then. And I think I might have seen a bed in there, too,” Spike said as he took Xander’s hand.